School provides so much stability and structure, which everyone could use a little more of, however, it prevents me from doing what I truly desire. What is this you ask? Writing.
Writing is a way of giving me an escape from reality. I can type (or write) for hours on end, yet it will seem as if only minutes passed. A hectic school life combined with a part-time job (which I love) can sometimes prevent me from writing. My motivation can be lost in the waves of equations and papers I have to write, which of course, limit my incredible creative mind. This past semester has been particularly difficult. Long gone are the days where I can wake up, smell the roses (more like coffee), and gently put my thoughts into action.
Although this problem will most likely stick with me through adulthood, it is something I can fix. I can make more time for myself. How did I come up with this fabulous idea? Let me tell you a little story about a fictional character I dreamt of, then forced myself to write about.
She was drenched. Covered in rain water, her tears were hidden as she walked the rocky path alone. Emptiness was all she felt, which only made her feel more alone. She carefully walked around puddle after puddle, each which only grew larger as she walked down the broken road. Thoughts constantly poured into her mind as she thought of her failure. Everything she loved had been lost and all she felt was empty. All she wanted was to once again, feel fulfilled. Suddenly she stopped as she peered down below her at yet another puddle. Looking at her own reflection, she saw her face. Although the rain covered her pain, she still knew it was there. After what felt like hours of staring, she jumped. Splash!
Water from the puddle she jumped into flew out in every direction and flowed further down the road. She jumped and tore at this massive puddle until nothing was left but a few drops of water.
Looking back down, she no longer saw her reflection. Instead, she saw a new beginning. She saw an opportunity to fill this puddle up with water on her own, and rewrite how she would see herself.
The rain halted to a light mist as she looked up at the sky and smiled. The girl dried her face and began her journey back up the path, for she was no longer alone and feeling empty.
This is a brief encounter I had with a dream, where I realized something. It is up to me to find my motivation to continue doing what I love most. If I let things get in the way of this, I will always have a sense of emptiness. I will always feel that something is missing. Until I take charge, I will always be fighting the world instead of us working together.
Emptiness is no longer an option, but fulfillment is.
