Dreams

Dreams

When he moved to a different town, he wanted a fresh start. He wished for a place where he didn’t get bullied. He dreamed of an environment in which he could be comfortable simply existing the way he is. He wanted an outlet that gave him energy, not drain him of his life.

When he moved to a different school, he wanted to be left alone. He was tired of the drama that came with friendships. He was exhausted from the heartaches that one-sided friendships left him with. He was sick of society’s standards and the way someone had to act in order to gain someone’s heart and care.

When he graduated, he wanted to start over. Mistake after mistake, the life he wished to leave behind showed the worst part of him, the part he wanted to leave behind. Restless, he wanted to begin again and start a new adventure. He wanted to discover life for everything that it is. He wanted to push limits and challenge the norm. He wanted to make a difference.

When he thought of university, he dreamt of getting out there and getting discovered. He wanted to finally break out of his shell. Restless, he was ecstatic about the new adventures he would begin.

Then he hit a wall.

Year after year, he became more and more restless with the potential of ten soldiers within him pounding to be set free. Year after year, he wanted a fresh start to challenge the world and discover the wonderful life he knew he was meant to live. Year after year, he continued to dream of tomorrow.

That’s why he hit a wall.

Tomorrow doesn’t come until today is over. You can’t have ‘next year’ when you’re still in ‘this year’. Accomplishments don’t create themselves; they need work.

Instead of working towards the life he wanted to live, he only dreamt of it. He wished and prayed for a second chance but then never did anything about it when he was given one. Remember, every day you wake up is another chance to make a ‘wrong’ a ‘right’; every day your eyes open is another chance to chase your dreams.

If you’re standing there pointing at a ball on the playground saying, “I want that!” but not doing anything to get it, then what are you truly doing? Nothing.

Your dreams are there for you to take. Your wishes are there for you to achieve.

The stirring in your soul has left you wondering
Should you stay or turn around
Well, just remember that your dreams they are a promise
That you were made to change the world
So don’t let fear stop you now

By: Sidewalk Prophets

I know it’s tiring. I know there will be times where you want to give up. But, honey, don’t give up on yourself. Don’t give up on your dreams. Don’t give up on…you.

“Your dreams…are a promise that you were made to change the world…”

The day he starts walking towards his dreams is the day he start living them.

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Signing Up

Signing Up

As a student, I am constantly signing up for classes, beginning a whole new experience with each unit I take. Whether that be the bonds formed by the desire to pull out our hair during labs or complaining and downing coffee throughout the endless nights spent studying, friendships are made and new visitors walk into our lives. Though most of the class won’t stay in touch after each semester is over, there is always those couple relationships in which you wish and pray for things to work out.

When you sign up for a class, you commit to x amount of hours studying (it’s usually never the number you thought you’d be spending, but you know this too); you commit to the hours in lecture and/or lab with your classmates; you sign up for the stress, the worry, the panic attacks, everything that could come with the class; you are there pushing through to make things work despite what happens (unless you have to drop, which always sucks).

Now, I’m thinking, what’s the sign up sheet for friendships? There are constantly people signing up to be your friend, either for a semester or for a lifetime, despite that most of them won’t end up being lifetime rock for you to lean on and share laughs with and be partners in crime or whatever you want to call them.

As someone who never had many friends growing up – I was always the loner, the weird/awkward kid, the one who lived under a rock, the one who didn’t really know how to keep friends – I still find myself not having many friends, but for other reasons. Throughout the life lessons we all are forced to learn as we grow up, some of us getting extremely guarded and isolated for that reason. I am very willing to be there for someone, but there aren’t many people who I would put my heart in their hands. I gotta know that they’re worth fighting for a relationship with, long-term. Looking for the kind of friend you want is way harder than finding the right classes to fit in your schedule…

But, to those of you who mean the world in my life right now, and you know who you are, I’m signing up…for you.

I’m signing up for all the times you are a mess because life’s a bitch. I’m signing up for the nights you need someone to cry to. I’m signing up.

I’m signing up for all the weird as hell conversations that probably have ADD because of how many topics we jump around to. I’m signing up for the conversations people would look at weirdly if they read what we said. I’m signing up for the awesome and careless laughs, the essay-long (yes, it’s not “paragraph-long” but “essay-long”) text conversations catching up with you. I’m signing up.

I’m signing up for the arguments I have with you through the clash we have between logic and emotion. I’m signing up to explain emotions to you. I’m signing up to be patient enough to let you learn what you need to learn, for life. I’m signing up.

I’m signing up for the schedule clashes that come between us. I’m signing up to get frustrated when trying to see you after what feels like months apart. I’m signing up for the days I miss you in my life. I’m signing up for the silence from you and the silence I give you because life happens. I’m signing up.

I’m signing up for the deep, meaningful conversations. I’m signing up for the “how are you”s we squeeze into the seconds we have to catch up at times. I’m signing up for the two minute conversations as we pass each other on campus. I’m signing up for the hours long rants. I’m signing up for late night phone calls. I’m signing up.

I’m signing up for your stubbornness in finding out what’s wrong. I’m signing up to be stubborn. I’m signing up for the advice we give each other. I’m signing up to wish you the best in everything you touch. I’m signing up to get excited when something works out for you. I’m signing up to cheer you on. I’m signing up to listen to your complaints. I’m signing up for you to rant to. I’m signing up.

I’m signing up to be here for you. I’m signing up to listen and learn about your life. I’m signing up to try to understand what you’re going through. I’m signing up to help you as I can. I’m signing up.

And I’m not walking away.

Enroll

You Can’t See Me

You Can’t See Me

When you see someone in pain, it’s like looking at a silhouette of them. You see the outline; you see a brief summary of them. You see the outside; you don’t recognize the inside…you can’t.

Sometimes the silhouette still presents the subject’s facial features. Sometimes it still shows everything that is to be seen on the inside. Sometimes the silhouette is black though. Sometimes it is not even a correct representation of everything that’s truly there – the pain, the heartache.

You can’t possibly know what’s going through their mind. You can’t possible understand what they’re going through.

All you see, if even, is the cover that masks the pain and their screams.

All you see when you look at me, if you see anything honest at all, is the exhaustion from the pain. All you see, if you’re looking at all, is a girl who wishes she could disappear.

Silhouette

Life #1. Life #2. Life #3. Life #4.

Life #1. Life #2. Life #3. Life #4.

“Most of us have two lives. The life we live, and the unlived life within.” – Steven Pressfield

When I got into middle school, I started spending hours at my computer writing. Whether it be short stories, potentially novel length stories, poems, songs, simple paragraphs or letters, I would spend hours typing away. I thought of the blank screen as a place in which I could pour out my heart. Being a kid who hadn’t had many people, if any, that I honestly talked to and trusted fully with my raw self, I resorted to expressing myself in other mediums.

That’s when I started to call myself a writer.

When I got into high school, I fell in love with photography and discovered a burning passion I never knew I had for this art. I always wanted to go shoot. I always wanted to take my camera everywhere I went. I became well known because of my camera and my photos. And all of that slowly shaped my vision of the world. A quote I once heard says, “The camera is an instrument that teaches people how to see without a camera.” I couldn’t agree more. I stand by this quote.

IMG_9883

Freshman year was when I started calling myself a photographer.

Today, I write. Today, I take photos.

But there will always be a part of me that wonders “what if writing or photography was what I devoted all my life and attention towards?”

We all have a similar question. That’s what I believe is to be my “second” and “third” life. The life of a writer. The life of a photographer. Though I hold both passions close to heart and continue to advance in both mediums at my own speed, the flame within tells me that there could be more.

Sometimes I wonder how happy I would be if I spent hours and hours of the days editing photos and going on photoshoots, if photography was my career. I wonder how many people would see my work, how many hearts my work would touch. Sometimes I fantasize about being a writer whose words make a huge impact in the world and motivated people to change their lives and ways of thinking for the better. I wonder what would have happened if I had followed my heart back when.

But then I look at the life around me, and stop. I love the life I have right now. I have another passion I discovered within my first programming class. I have high hopes for the future and this potentially life-changing career. I have a wonderful boyfriend who loves me. I have irreplaceable friends who adore me. I have a better life than I had expected.

After all, this is the life I’m living. If I weren’t happy with it, I wouldn’t be living it.

Study…Study…Study some more…

Study…Study…Study some more…

Everyone wants to be successful in life. Everyone wants to end up happy in this lifetime.

I say, study.

It’s not as simple as studying your school textbooks thoroughly. It’s not just focusing on the information that will be on the project, quiz, or exam.

It goes deeper than researching about topics that interest you. It goes beyond talking about ideas and concepts with others.

…study the colors the sky creates each morning and night that takes people’s breath away
…notice how the wrinkles and creases on your mother’s face shine in the sunlight
…experience the emotions that coarse through your body in every waking moment
…yearn to see the reasons why someone’s passion can see within their shinning or dark eyes

…learn the ways the ones you love sees the life around you differently
…study the impacts of crucial events, as well as small event, throughout your lifetime
…notice how the silence in the room might be more meaningful than the constant chatter at a college party
…yearn to be different and express how your perspective of life is different from the others around you

…notice how the light hits the glass and creates a mural on the ground before your feet
…experience all the little things in life to their fullest potential because, once you look back, you’ll soon realize that the small things were actually really big
…study about the environment around you and about all the changes society is making to the world
…present the best version of yourself and admire people’s reactions and comments

It’s more than just studying the textbooks we pay too much for or finishing the assignments (sometimes at 3am the night before it’s due). It’s more than finding someone who you bond with very well. It’s more than simply getting out of your own mind.

It’s learning about the world around you. It’s studying the little things that turn out to be huge in the end. It’s experiencing everything to its fullest potential.

Study

Carved

Carved

Somewhere between the first time I met you and that last time I read your text ‘goodbye’, I lost myself…or had I ever found myself in the first place?

You were my old friend’s boyfriend. We hit it off and got along super well, a little too well even. I couldn’t help it. I found someone I thought might make a difference in my life. And wow, I was right. You made a difference to me.

You were the first person who I felt truly cared about me beyond the reputations or anyone around me. You saw me for who I was, a broken and lost little girl, and took me under your wing with caution that I’d fly away. You began taking care of me through the years. We got closer and drifted a part, and got closer and then parted ways.

Everyone who knows the story knows it was never that simple but, for the purpose of this writing, let’s keep it that way.

You made me happy but I was always fighting for your attention. You took care of me but sometimes I had to go out of my way to force you to show that concern I needed to see. You wanted the best for me but I found myself walking down a dark road once again.

I never made the best choices. The mind games got to me. The backstabbing made my insecurities grow. The lies made my questioning worse. The facade of a fairytale blinded my eyes and left my heart scarred and scared to ever love again.

I look back and I know I’m not going to forget you; I know I won’t forget what happened way back when. A part of me hates that, but the other part of me knows that’s the way things have to be for me to grow, for me to learn, for me to go beyond everything I used to be.

There were moments that I sent you a ‘goodbye’ text but always found myself going back, as if trying to find a part of myself I had lost within you. I was always so proud of myself when I said goodbye to you but always hated it when I went back to your name on my screen. It was as if I was constantly turning around on a ferris-wheel-like ride as I go on with my life.

Then, the last person I thought would save me did exactly that. I was suddenly freed from the life I wanted to leave behind over a year before I actually did. I cut ties completely and a part of me came back to me. I was extremely proud of myself in those moments that I picked myself back up and kept walking forward.

I wanted to start over. I wanted to begin again. And I finally was able to do that, completely.

But, looking back, I know there will be a weak spot in my heart for those I had once loved. I know there will a part of me who reminiscences some of the good old times. I know there will be a part of me I have to thank you for, whether I hate her or love her. I know there will be nothing I can do to erase what has been said and done.

And, I’m okay with that.

You have your place in my heart, way back there somewhere. You have your place in my thoughts, when I look back to the past and everything I was. And that’s okay. You don’t have a place in my present. You don’t have a place in my life. I wouldn’t want it any other way. But I will admit, your footprint stays on my heart and your scars stay on my skin.

And, that will have to be okay.

After all, you had carved your signature onto my heart.

Carve

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.

Calling