Swim. Don’t Drown.

Swim. Don’t Drown.

“The shark that doesn’t swim drowns.”
“Akula, kotorya Ne plavayet, Ne tonet.”

It’s been four years since I started to get questions about my future career. It’s been four years of pressure to get into a field that has a good payment, and a good reputation. And, honestly, I hadn’t gotten anywhere until a few months ago.

Since the beginning, I felt as if I was always facing a white canvas not knowing what the heck to do about it. I looked out into the world through a broken glass, unsure where to go next that won’t backfire. But, instead in the mist of asking others what they think I would be good at, I had forgotten to ask myself where I want to be in life. And, for that, I stood still for those years.

I didn’t venture out to see what opportunities I could have. With all the questions and the pressures to go into one field versus any of the others, I simply closed up in a shell where all I saw was darkness. I didn’t think I could live up to be what my parents wanted me to be. I didn’t believe I could do anything that would be worth of them bragging about me. Most importantly, I didn’t believe there would be a place for me to stand in the world when I grew up.

I started to lose parts of myself I was always defined by. I began to loose sight of what I had always wanted to do in life: be happy while making a difference. I started believing the words people yelled my way that told me I wasn’t worthy of the traits I held close to heart, or that they weren’t good enough in order to give me a good reputation. All the words, all the comments, all the pressures from everyone around me did the opposite of encouragement.

It wasn’t until I got away from what others had to say. I started going to school more; I ditched the old study room in which I felt trapped and trading it for a clean library desk where I felt impossibly free. I went back to my roots; I started picking up the pieces of myself I knew were worthy despite what anyone else had to say. I began exploring my options and talking to people who didn’t have a biased opinion that pressured me to walk down any certain path. I started swimming.

In my eyes, it wasn’t until then that I truly felt like myself. Before, it was always about reputation; it was always about how others perceived us to be. There was never any room for me to grow on my own because the person I was supposed to grow up to be was already molded and framed in my parents’ mind. I couldn’t learn from my own mistakes, because everything had always been planned out and simply told to me to execute. I wasn’t being me, no, I wasn’t being human; I was simply a robot.

Now, a year since I’ve turned away from being cooped up in a cage and a few months since I uncovered a part of myself I knew was always there, I feel whole. I feel independent; I can take care of myself and I can get through by myself. I feel like I have a chance at everything the world has to offer as long as I go out there and achieve the best I can. I look into the mirror and, though I might not have everything figured out, I can see the girl I was always meant to be.

I’m finally working towards the future, my future. And I couldn’t be more proud.

Lost and UnFound

Lost and UnFound

I remember that night like it was yesterday.
It’s been years yet I still can’t shake the feelings that come with the memory.

One more night of her being vacant for the day, and then for the night. One more day of a wine glass sitting at the tensely silent dinner table. One more day I was prepared for yelling and screaming matches. But, that day didn’t turn out as anyone would’ve thought.

Drunk. He didn’t recognize me.
In pain. His cries echoed through the night.
Crying. He mumbled phrases as the EMTs arrived.
Panicking. I ran, getting yelled at, to gather his things.
Crying. I thought I would lose him that night.
Delusional, right?

After what felt like days, he finally went to bed probably still mumbling curse words in pain. I couldn’t bring myself to get up from the corner I had been hiding in, sobbing with pain. I picked up my phone and called my best friend at the time. I called him, again, and again, and again. After the tenth time, my phone fell out of my hand as I curled up in a ball and shook with fear.

Why didn’t he answer? He knows how much I need him.
Where was he? I needed him to be there for me, especially now.
Why does it hurt so much? …the hundreds needles of pain each time I breathed.
Where was everyone? I sweared to myself that I was not alone, but I was.
Broken. into the millions of pieces of myself I was still trying to save.

After getting to my bed, I called again…and again…and again. Soon I fell asleep, tears falling from these cheeks. Curled up in a ball, it felt like the coldest winter night in a storm of sharp ice swirling around me.

And, somewhere in that night, a piece of myself was lost…
Never to be found again.


C8H10N4O2 (aka 1,3,7-Trimethylpurine-2,6-dione)

C8H10N4O2 (aka 1,3,7-Trimethylpurine-2,6-dione)

I’ve always been a user. I loved this drug. I loved the taste more than it seemed to have an affect on me.

When I was around 12 years old, I began intaking small amounts every other month or so. When I was in high school, I began taking more and more. But it was my second year in college when I realized I had become dependent on this drug.

“Rush” is what we, the bookstore employees, called the first two weeks of each fall or spring semester. Standing at the cashier for hours at a time, I would find myself losing my voice from the nonstop talking each and every day. Every night, I would come home and stay up late to study. Each morning, intaking more and more of this drug to keep me going throughout the day.

My friends yelled at me whenever I went to take a dose of this chemical. I couldn’t help it. I found a strong enough dose that it helped me instead of just being for the taste. And with the long work hours and late nights studying, I needed the help getting through the day.

Even after “rush” ended, I continued my intake at a more leisurely manner. I liked the taste and didn’t mind the extra bucks to get my hands on some.

It wasn’t until I had to have my heart procedure. I stopped taking this drug to be safe before and after the procedure. But, then, the headaches came. I couldn’t focus. I had never experienced headaches like that before. I knew something was wrong.

The first reason on my list was my new medications. But when I talked to someone well more knowledgable in the medical field, I discovered I was way off. Caffeine withdrawal. Surprise.

Now I sit at my desk, typing this post, with a cup of black tea and a can of Coke. Yesterday, I had a cup of green tea. The day before, some coffee.

Funny how I never thought I’d be addicted to caffeine…are you?



Snuggled against his chest under the darkness of the room, silence lay between us not heavy nor suffocating but soothing my broken pieces with a midnight glow. His chest against my back, I felt a safeness I have forgotten about. His warmth sparks a fire in my heart that keeps me warm during the coldest night in a long while.

During the day I remember feeling the weakest of the weak. I seemed to hobble my way to my car, unsure that I had the energy to even drive but determined to get through. I wanted to curl up in a ball and shove the world’s problems away. I wanted to melt into a puddle of jello because I didn’t feel as if I could even take an actual breathe of air.

And, no, when I found him with a concerned look on his face, all my troubles didn’t melt away. I even questioned why I had chosen his bed instead of my own. I shook my head at myself not knowing why I wanted to be by his side so damn bad, my heavy heart getting the best of my thoughts.

It was when he held me, as I curled up around a fluffy pillow probably half as big as myself. It was when I felt him gently pull his hand away from where our fingers were intertwined, trying his best to not wake me. It was when I cuddle back into his arms as he returned to me. It was the glimmer of joy in his eyes as he watched me get my things to leave for the night, not seeming disappointed that I had fallen asleep during our time together. It was the tight hug I received as if he didn’t want to let me go.

It was in those moments, of insane exhaustion and meaningful silence, that I felt a connection building between us.

I’ll be honest. I don’t think I would have ever believed any soul who told me he could make me feel strong in my weakest times. I don’t think I would have ever trusted anyone who said he would be the knight in shinning armor I’ve dreamed of ever since my first princess story. I would still not believe anyone who says he’ll be my happily ever after. I would still not believe anyone who says he’s everything I’ve waited for.

Not because that isn’t what a heart in love would want, not because of all the pain this heart has gone through, not even close. But because who the heck knows about his and my tomorrow? Who is going to say they can write our future for us and argue to take the pen straight out of our hands? Anyone want to raise their hand, because I will make sure I’m real clear about that fact that no one else has the right to write this future except for the ones in it. And, that night, started the spark in my cold little heart that gives me hope and excitement to write this future out with him.

It isn’t how romantic he is, it isn’t that life feels like a fairytale when I’m with him, and it definitely isn’t because I know him like the back of my hand. But it’s the moments where I can be sure I have a place in his heart. And during that night, I know I did.




I know I deserve better. I know I have the right to expect more. I know better, now.

I know I have a choice of who to let into my life. I know I have a choice of who I keep close and who I let go. I know I have a choice to stay or to walk away.

I know I have a choice because this is my life. I know because I have come to recognize my future as something only I have the power to write. I know because everything I have gone through has lead me to this point and now I understand.

I know I have come a long way from where I used to stand. I used to be confused. I used to wander around aimlessly trying to fight for something that wasn’t worth my breathe. I used to grasp a hold onto something that wasn’t there. I used to play pretend as if that would solve the world’s problems. But, no, it doesn’t.

This is my life and I have to live it, for me. I am the only one who has to deal with the decisions I make, so they better be good ones. I am the only one who has to live the future I plan out now. I am the only one who can do this, for me.

I know I am better than who I was in my past. I know I am better than the pain that aches in my chest. I know I am worth more than some people give me credit for.

I know I’ve made mistakes in the past. I know I’ve really messed up more than just a couple times. I know I had a lot of growing up to do, and that’s what I ended up doing.

I know I deserve better. I know I have the right to ask for better, and if it cannot be provided than I have the choice to either fight for it or let it go. Sometimes ‘it’ doesn’t deserve a fight though. Sometimes ‘it’ is simply better to let it go. And that’s what I did.

I got tired of waiting around for a knight in shinning armor to come around and safe my ass. I got tired of always wanting someone to tell me everything was going to be okay. So I got up and saved my own ass. I got up and did something with my life so I know it will be okay.

I know better now. I know I can do better. I know I can get better.

I am sorry. But, now, I know. I learned. I made a life for myself. I walked away when you decided to leave, one more time. I’m done.

I am sorry because you never got to say the goodbye you wanted to. I am sorry because I will not give you the comfort of hearing the words ‘good’ and ‘bye’ come from my mouth.

I am sorry. I am done.

*click click click…..*

*click click click…..*

Hearing the simple sound of fingers hitting the keyboard created a rainstorm-like environment throughout the room. The silence beyond that was barely heard. Any evidence of a human voice was not found. The strokes of the little keys continued to create a story, one day to be found.

I look up to the lecture screen and back down to my little monitor. The characters appear on my white background as my fingers rush past the different buttons. A story was to be written, a story was to be heard.

Not the kind of story you could read and understand. Not the kind of story that needed a voice to get heard. Not the kind of story you would find in any storybook. It was the kind of story, where all you had to do was look.

Press the play button. Press the pause.

Press play on the thoughts in your mind, no matter how much you hate to listen. Press pause on everything else that comes from the hectic world in which you live.

I look to my left and to my right. Everyone typing out a different story. Everyone typed at a different speed. Everyone has a different history, a different past…a different wish.

The sounds of the keyboard, the sounds of some sort of song. The melody of writer’s, the melody goes on…so, so long.

Sometimes I know my worth.

Sometimes I have the guts to get up and say “I deserve better”. Sometimes I have the courage to simply walk away from something that is hurting me. Sometimes I have it in me to believe in myself and everything that I am.

After all, I’ve learned from the mistakes I’ve made. I’ve taken a lesson of some kind from the problems I’ve caused in the past. I also am a changed person. I’m not who I used to be. There are still things that haunt me, that I look back to, or that I let bother me even today. There are things I haven’t fully dealt with, and things I need to face. But…in the end, what other people think of me shouldn’t change how I see myself, my past doesn’t write my future, and I have the choice to write my present and my future in anyway that I wish.

But sometimes I don’t know…

Sometimes I let the negative memories cloud my mind. Sometimes I let myself isolate from the world and trap myself in a dark and cold place of mind. Sometimes I get hopeless and feel lost, as if I don’t know who I am.

I start to hear the voices come back and I remember all the things that have been said to and about me. I start to remember all the stupid decisions I made when I was younger and start to regret everything that I’ve ever done. I start to slip and feel as if I’m a waste of space.

When I know my worth, not much can break me. I can get overwhelmed. I can get stressed. I can deal with something where I’m in over my head. I can be so, so strong and confident. But when I don’t know, everything breaks me. My brain suddenly connects everything back to a horrible memory or a scarring feeling from the past. Suddenly, everything seems to be working against me even when I’m actually getting a lot of work done. Suddenly, I feel alone and unwanted and I get trapped there.

I could vaguely remember how it felt to be confident and strong, but I wouldn’t be able to remember how to get myself back there.