How Are You Doing?

How Are You Doing?

Everyone walks around and asks each other how they’ve been since the last time they met, starts conversation about some vague topic that comes to mind, and then parts ways feeling as if they either wasted time or found more of a bounce in their step. Your coworkers will ask how life outside of work is, and you’ll answer with some ambiguous one liner. Your classmates will ask how your other classes are, and you’ll answer with some half-hazy description with a nervous chuckle. Everyone asks and there are people who wish to care but, in reality, the generalized answers and questionable comebacks are our ways to indefinitely give an undetermined response. Because, really, no one knows how they are truly doing.

We walk around in our little atmospheres only ever defining success or happiness when looking at the comparison of someone else’s life against our own. But since there is no true value in reflecting against something that doesn’t even match our circumstances, the answer to that one simple question remains undefined.

How are you? How are you doing? How is life? How are things?

Truthfully, the answer is, “I don’t know.”

My dad is weakened by his health yet takes on the burden’s of the world onto his shoulders as he stresses about how to pay the bills with where the cash is flowing. My mom is constantly straining herself to find a third job to pay the bills while boring herself at a desk job she is overqualified for – just not on paper. My older sister is awaiting a response from the dozens of medical schools she applied to while working full-time and managing to finish a two year program in one.

My dad has his health. I have mine. We both struggle daily to get through the days with the constant pain we have found ourselves burdened with. Some days it’s near impossible to get out of bed, or do anything other than sit still at our desk. But it’s hard to say anything.

Driving is an issue because of my health. Being in late night classes is an issue with my health. Working more hours isn’t possible with my health. Do you know how frustrating it all is?

You tell me, how am I doing?


Onward Ho!

Onward Ho!

There have been so many battles I’ve had to face in my (almost) 2 decades of life. There have been many that were right there, out in the open, while others were battles I fought in silence. There were the ones I always knew I would win, and then those in which I couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. There are the battles I walked away from without a scratch, but there are also the wars that left me scarred for life. How many battles have I fought? I lost count.

There are the battles I fought and won, and then those I lost and had to pick up the pieces afterwards. There are the ones I continued for years, and those I simply walked away from. There are the ones I am still fighting today, and ones that continue only in my mind. How many are there? I ask this, what is the point of counting?

From the battles between love and hate, to the wars between good and evil, the fighting never seems to stop. My artistic side fights the battles between resistance and passion, between logic and emotion, between love and war. The student in me fights the battles between procrastination and productivity, and that seems to be more than enough to handle. The side of me that remembers I’m a daughter fights the battles between being herself and living up to the impossible standards of both society and her parents, between the negativity she always had to deal with and the positivity that she still hopes to be. Each and every part of me has its own battles to face. Each and every single battle is exhausting and draining. How do I do it? Well, we all do.

We all have our own battles that we face each and every day of our lives. Whether it be the push and pull towards love and logic, or the passion flaming in your heart and the logical pathway your parents wish upon you, or the forces of good and evil which lie within you…each and every battle is as exhausting as the next. We all fight the battles between living up to society’s standards and being true to oneself, between logic and emotion, and between procrastination and productivity but there are also the wars we must win within.

I fight myself every single day to believe what my mother says about my lack of beauty or what my friends and boyfriend say about my beauty. I fight myself every single day to trust what my sister and mother always made me feel or what my test scores say about my intelligence when I try my best.

I wonder every day if I’m being a good daughter (which I often answer with ‘no’). I question my path in life whenever I get the chance and wonder if I’m doing this “right” (which I often leave unanswered…or with ‘no’). I’m still fighting these battles. I have yet to win them and answer these question with YES.

But there are battles I have won.
Am I strong? YES. You can see that in the surgeries I have faced and…everything I’ve been through.
Am I a good friend? YES. You can see that in how much effort I put into every single friendship I get the chance to bond with.

There are so many battles and wars I have been through, and countless more that I will have to face in this lifetime. There are ones I will raise my sword at ready to fight, and the ones I will simply walk away from. Why? I get to choose my fights.

Always a Next

Always a Next

I’m walking down the hallway when I see them. Two of my friends…fighting…again. I pick up my speed and drop my bag a little away.

“Let go.” I ordered, yanking his hand away from her wrist.

His eyes widened for a second and then had that devilish hint in them when he focused on me. He was in the state of insanity. I knew this state, for him anyway.

“You shouldn’t have done that…” I faintly heard my friend mutter on her breathe, not daring to make a noise.

There was a chokingly tense atmosphere in the air. This was one of the times where we challenged each other, and made it clear.

He pushed me against the lockers behind me, my shoulders making a loud bang. With my wrist pinned to the locker, I felt the cold metal behind me and continued to stare into his nearly black devil eyes.

“Why do you always choose to get yourself in trouble?” He chuckled, amused.

“Why do you always choose to get your ass kicked?” I smirked.

He wasn’t amused anymore.

“Get out of here.” I ordered my friend, who was still watching in fear; her feet were glued to the ground.

She opened her mouth to say something but I cut her off.

“Get!” I commanded, making her nearly run out of the hall.

The entire time I didn’t unlock my eyes with the black ones that stared back. The owner of them raised his hand to slap me, but I caught it midway. The slight confusion, that second of his surprise, gave me just enough time to turn around and yank my wrist free and slap him.

He took a few steps back, his hand rubbing his face. He glared at me, hard, but didn’t move to do anything more. He soon walked away, leaving me in the empty hallway alone.

This was how it always ended. We both knew I won this time…but there was always a next.