Wait for Me

Wait for Me

Let me be honest with you guys

I am writing. I am writing a lot. I am writing my heart out onto pages and pages in books, on my drive, in my sketchbook, on scratch paper, everywhere. I am writing. I am writing because it has been a part of who I am for many, many years.

Just because I do not post and do not publish, it does not mean it is no longer a part of who I am. Writing will always be a part of who I am. Writing is a part of my heart.

I want to get that clear.

And to those of you who are following my blog(s), I will be back. In a few months, I will be back with stories to tell. I will be back to open my heart to the world once more. I will be back to all of you, one day. I hope you will wait for me until I return, more ready than I feel today.

That is all I will say.

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My Goodbye, For Now

My Goodbye, For Now

I’ve had this blog since June 2013. Wow, it’s been over five years since I published the first post here. It’s been eight years since I started writing, seven years since I started acknowledging my writing as a part of myself.

But, really, what does it do? You get lost in your own words. You hear your own pathetic thoughts. You listen to the echo of your lost heart trying to swim at bay. What for?

It’s time for me to revert things back to the way things used to be, with me. No longer will have you have an easy sneak peak within me. You want to know me? Figure it out. If anything, you have five years worth of my writing to go off of. But, keep in mind, the past and the present are not the same nor are the past and the future any further apart.

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.