twenty eighteen
Oh, lots of fragility seeps out of your four years in high school. There is this hypertension that creates pressure to succeed, to grow up, to become a functioning human in society; but where is the direction? Where does the knowledge get obtained?
There were lots of decisions to be made. Who was I to become? Where did I want to go? I traveled the internet vastly in search of inspiration and found lots of peace within distractions. I hesitated greatly on projects, homework, attendance. But as the months leaped and graduation became apparent, I sat in the 80 degree heat to gather my diploma, a paper that said: Congratulations! You are a straight D student! Have fun figuring this out!
And it meant the world to me.
I received my first job a week later. It was a terrible one, a part time occupation at the mall that strained my mental capacity. Eventually, though, Autumn rolled around, I started college, and I promised myself one thing: I will do good and I will become something. Sort of.
My first semester collapsed and built itself all at once. It was a beautiful decay. Dragging myself to school turned into bunny hopping around campus just to avoid obligations. This turned into academic probation and a GPA of 0.8. Yes. Actually. Really.
But I began writing again. A lot. Those moments where I was absent in school drove me to hiding in libraries, utterly occupied in a short I was writing: something that never was finished but greatly was appreciated. I was starting to expand. And I’ve always done this in solitude.
People can’t assemble your pieces for you. I knew this. The fabrication of your person requires lots of time. Effort. Patience. Dismantling. And this all comes from within. But an Instagram DM passed and I met the most important person to add to my story. Things began to bloom. I began to show up for classes. And I never looked back. I saw spring and I understood I was forming my adulthood.
Dan came into my life and it felt as though he planted flowers I never knew existed. I left my job. And another. And another. Three compressing jobs later I now reside at a place that feels safe. Welcoming. Providing.
Lots of travel. And exploring. And building. And doing. Lots of anger, and confusion, and changing. I was growing, right? Is this what growing is? I was experiencing fulfillment. And happiness. Things are feeling complete. It is making sense. Is this happiness?
Two years have passed and deans list has been checked off of my bucket list. My resume has grown and I am fully engaged in myself and the people around me. Responsibilities have expanded, I have welcomed them with open arms, and none of it feels out of place.
I am thankful for these happenings. I am delighted to watch the world climb and sink many more times before figuring it all out. I hope I never figure it out. I hope I keep going, and undergo pressures that keep molding me.
I am mostly thankful for the opportunities I was fortunately provided with. The last two years have supplied me with multiple chances and they helped aid in my personal progression.
And I guess no one specific event altered my timeline. It was a gradual movement, never a direct flight; complications were bound to happen, and they did. Truly, though, I never would have suspected this to be the platform I would land on. This is who I am becoming. An on going out-of-body experience that thrills my imagination. And for the first time, I am overwhelmingly proud of myself.
All three of the pictures are back from 2018 -
