Reflections

Let yourself be silently drawn by the strange pull of what you really love. It will not lead you astray.

I haven't written anything in a while.
While classes might help me become the writer I wanna be, I forget that I also have my own slow, fluid typing that I can do all by myself. Here, on this blog, I can reflect. A month's worth of stories protesting to get out of my head and live among the reality of my keyboard and omnipresent internet.

What status would my writing give itself if it had its own social media account? Jaded. Give me new words and expressions to use to reflect the strong emotions i hold in my heart.

I sleep, I exercise, I shower, I eat, I talk. I wish I could spend more than an hour on everything I am passionate about but I am passionate about more than 24 things. Can I sleep for one hour and physically be alright? Can I devote an hour to everything I want to do. Give me an hour of yoga, an hour of jump rope, an hour of eating slowly and making healthy food choices, an hour for each hw assignment plus an hr of studying per class. That's only eleven hours, plus another two to four hours of class time depending on the day, with the additional two hour orchestra session and ...
I could make a list, I am making a list. What does the world expect of its students when there's only so much time in the day.
Don't forget about money though, school doesn't pay for itself, and if it does then it's usually a shitty education.

What can we do? We can be proactive in everything we do. I write because the thoughts in my head need to get out. I don't procrastinate, yet I forget that I need to prioritize...what? Prioritize and place different aspects of my life in different measurements of care? I want to passionately and equally grab a hold of everything.

Standing

My self can't take it. I stand so close to the edge of defeat that if one knee bends, i will fall. But I stand. And my fight continues with every single decision I make to not give up. 

My story, is not an exciting one, but it is one full of emotions. Tears have fallen, smiles have endured, but my anger has vented out through the written word or weak shouts of reprimand. No verbal joust has occurred, only thought out debates. As if my mind decides that i have no backbone and no quick wit in any inch of my body. 

Once upon a time, a girl in desire of forever devouring knowledge, went to college and got her heartbroken by friends, her brain destroyed by the evils of deflated energy for the arts, and her own weak stand on staying awake on the road. This girl lavished on her first year and fed on the concerns of the world at each moment she spent time with those she thought close. Then as her second year began, she had no dorm to call her own, a car she trashed with all her possessions, work that kept her sane, friends that stabbed her in the back, papers that only felt half finished from her dreams but fully finished in her physical state. But as the summer arrived. the worst kept mounting. She fell asleep at the wheel, literally and metaphorically, and damaged her car enough to take away her paycheck meant for her school, to now head towards the seller of her next chance of transportation. Why continue? She wanted to change the world. Has she? I don't know. Will she? If she continues fighting. Therefore, there is no happily ever after, because the difficulties go on and the fight occurs with different battles.  

Keep standing: if you're at the bottom, there's no where to go but up.

Goals: be a voice for the victims. Be a light to this shitty, broken world. Stop cussing, it sounds bad on you. Stand. Stay in college.