I can’t remember when it was that I decided to do something else with my life. It’s like I woke up one day and realized that I didn’t have a chance, that I am not like others, that what I wanted to be since I was in the first grade is something I cannot be. And so, like the practical person I am, I researched the job market, read company websites for hundreds of advertising agencies and publishing firms, and I decided to go into one of those kinds of fields. I put away the dreams I once had, the ones that stayed with me throughout my life, the ones I so vividly saw in the first grade. I laid them to rest, and yet, they haunt me. They haunt me more and more with each passing day, and the person I have become is battling with the person I once wanted to be. I look in the mirror these days, and I have no idea what to do with myself. I have always known what to do with myself. That was never the hard question. I am blessed; the choices I have made have always been ones that I do not regret; the big decisions in my life have always been met with good consequences and not bad ones; I walk through life blessed. But my blessedness leaves me tortured, lets me see the world in a light that is unsteady, not always bright and not always clear. At least, I think I see the world in this light. And here is a question then: if my view of the world is how everyone views the world, then am I really capable of telling you a story? Of captivating you for any span of time? If how I view my surroundings is ordinary, then who am I to say that I write and that my writing is worth your reading? And if I find that your answer is in the negative, then do I simply reaffirm my intentions on entering industries that I have researched relentlessly? Do I forget the feel of a pen in my hand and quell the spirit and soul of myself so that I may lead a life of neither blessedness nor torture? This semester has been harder than I could have ever imagined.
-M.
