Now that spring has begun and the air is faintly smelling of orange blossom filling the valley air in the brisk mornings, I can tell my time here is coming to an end. The morning and afternoons driving up and down the weaving road into the campus atop the hill. There are so many fond memories that will last more than a life time.
But now I am counting the weeks left in this beautiful place that I have spent the last four years of my life. In one way, this place is kind of all I have ever known, but it has made me want to branch out and go explore. I have learned so much academically, but also as a person.
I’ve learned what to expect from people and how to protect myself and control emotions, I’ve learned how to make true life long connections with people but most importantly I began to learn who I am.
All of these small simple lessons have been learned simply from waking up and going to school every morning and giving it all I could every day.
So now I have realized I have limited time left, and that is in fact scary, but it is leading me to a new adventure.
As time went on, my emotions started to grow into something not so pretty. My thoughts and feelings followed me everywhere, even when I wanted nothing to do with them. I was trapped and claustrophobic. I would come home from school and sit in silence, and do nothing. My motivation was gone, my happiness was fake, and my mental health was non existent. Sometimes it would hurt to cry because the mental pain I was in.
I was getting better. I wanted, no I needed to get better. I talked with someone, a couple someones, and I worked on my mental health. I started feeling bursts of happiness and motivation. These feelings that I have not felt in a long time. I thought I was getting better, I thought life was treating me well. Until it was not.
This time I understood what I was feeling, and I wanted it to stop. I did everything I could to get better, and I knew it was going to be a long process with setbacks. I was kind to myself, as well as patient. It took a while, and I still have ups and downs, but I am getting better. It is a day-by- day process.
I am finally able to say that I’m truly happy with life.
Often at night, I find myself just laying in bed and not being able to shut off my thoughts. There are so many things just racing through my mind. While I lay there, listening to the rain hit the roof of my room, I think about how funny life sometimes is. It can be amazing, you are happy and everything is perfect, and then the next day everything just comes crashing down on you. And when one thing goes wrong suddenly everything starts going wrong and it feels like you are drowning. But then there are those people that just pull you out of that hole. It might take a while to get out, but these people make it so much easier.
Honestly, sometimes you just need someone to listen to you. They don’t even need to say anything. It can feel amazing to just get everything off your chest without being judged for it. And once you make it through rough times you have so much to be proud of. You can reflect back to the times where you were at you lowest and look at yourself and say “I made it through this” and it proves how strong we are as a person.
So I lay in bed, and think about all the things of the past weeks, and I just think about how lucky I am to have people that support me in anything I do.
I can not even count the times I have wanted to reach out to you, scrolled through my contacts to find your number, went to type out a message I never sent, or looked at old pictures and felt an urge to speak to you again. But I remained silent and kept the words unspoken. I’ve wanted to tell you how much I’ve missed you in these last six months. There is not a day that goes by where I do not think of you… But recently you’ve been living in my mind much much more.
Recently everything has reminded me of you. I see images of us from a year ago to the date, hear your name in conversation, or see things we would have shared with each other and something tells me I must speak to you again. But instead, I keep the words unspoken, although there’s this feeling deep in me that we need to speak once again and that something will bring us back.
My unspoken words consist of these thoughts for the most part; you rapidly became the most significant person in my life, and for that, I’ll forever be grateful for, but the day we stopped speaking a little part of me began to crumble. You took a part of me with you when you evaporated from my life. You were part of my daily routine, we spoke every day from the second we woke up, to when we would lie our heads on the pillow each night. We shared some of our highest highs and lowest lows together, and always made an effort to check in and see how we both were feeling. You being gone felt like I was missing my other half. You were my person.
These unspoken words have given me the chance to reflect on how I feel, and what drove us apart. I understand why you had to leave, but I do not accept it, and if I am being honest I probably never will. But I am slowly becoming okay with that, with the idea that you are in fact gone, weather that be for now or for forever.
I still often wonder how you are doing though, and I check in on you from afar. I only hope that you are doing as well as you used to be, and you are carrying on. I hope you still have the call for adventure, and a sparkle of mischief in your blue eyes. But I miss you more than you’ll ever know. I miss us, our adventures, late night conversations, and most of all I miss my best friend. I hope we cross paths one day in the future, for you will always hold captive a large part of my heart.
Cold winter days often seem to fall short of the media’s predictions. We scheduled an early departure from school in anticipation of dangerous storms, though we’re met with trickles of water creating small puddles in dry dirt.
I tend to dress dramatically for the cold. I wear two pears of socks, two jackets, and keep a spare pair of gloves in my backpack. I prefer to overheat than freeze from the brisk winds. My wardrobe has many jackets, though only one of them I have deemed warm enough for January weather.
Although the cold is difficult, I do hope for adventure’s sake that we experience more rain. I keep my prized umbrella tucked away in my backpack, waiting for the day when I can use it again. I enjoy the trek from classroom to classroom as I use my umbrella as a shield from the harsh sky. February is likely to bring more rain, and I won’t put my umbrella away until the sun is revealed.
So I found myself looking deep in the eyes of a green eyed boy with dark hair and an illuminating smile and felt the corners of my moth turn upwards on their own.
What is this feeling? I tend to know what feelings rush through my body, but this human has created a new, different, unusual feeling. There is no sort of nervous fear or butterflies, there is just this comfortable glow surrounding the green eyed boy.
Am I finding myself falling…?
Falling for what you ask? Well simply put, I do not know. The only thing I can relate to the feeling of the green eyed boy is falling.
It is not a bad sort of falling, but rather a floating or soaring, but weightless none the less.
I think I am okay with this new feeling entering my body, but I am still very perplexed by the unknown sense that looking into the green eyes of the boy with the dark brown hair and illuminating smile brings to me.
In a difficult situation, rather than recognizing my own mistake, I tend to look for the wrong in other people. The inertia of others would oftentimes disappoint me. However, I don’t think anyone is really wrong.
Sometimes you don’t see the flaw in yourself. My best friend Ce is just like me, he often tells me that he is disappointed by this or that person. As an outsider to his problems, I see the flaw perfectly—we place our expectations too high. With a high expectation, feeling disappointed becomes easy.
This scenario doesn’t just apply to Ce and me, it’s a situation that everyone is facing right now. With the raging coronavirus, limiting our freedom and space, one can only feel disappointed from the news and the inertia of others. However, I urge you to think about life, to appreciate the fact that you’re alive and well and not the medics who wear only scarfs on their faces to fend off the virus.
To be more content with your current situation means that you have to have a low expectation of other people. Just be glad that as of this moment, you, while reading this blog, you are breathing and may have a chance to see tomorrow.
Last night I found a stack of colored paper. They were 12″x12″ and dusty from having sat on my shelf for the past three years. I don’t remember why I got them, but I’ve always remembered them being there.
I took them from the shelf and I dropped them on my desk, their purpose still uncertain, and I didn’t expect myself to do anything.
I then proceeded to spend a while doing homework, doing laundry, and preparing dinner. In this time I had forgotten about the stack of papers and allowed myself to get lost in the routine that I had mindlessly adopted over the past month.
When I came back to my desk while going through the motions of cleaning my room which I now do routinely as well, the stack of papers had a new appeal to them. It posed itself as an opportunity to escape my regimen. So I sat down and I flipped through the seven different colors that repeated themselves tirelessly and considered what I could feasibly do.
I never considered myself to be particularly talented or artistic in any way, art classes have always marked themselves as the low points in my grade book. But I was suddenly inspired to do something with them. I knew I couldn’t draw so I eliminated that, my painting skills were on par with my drawing, but folding paper, I was a beast at folding paper.
Photo: Museum of fine arts, St. Petersburg
Now I had never really attempted Origami, but I approached it rather confidently because of my unexpected prowess in the field of paper airplane design. So I went online, and I decided to make a crane.
When I finally completed my first crane about 15 minutes later, it looked decent, and that presented itself as an incredible surprise.
But I had done it, I’d done something that wasn’t typical of me during this drawn-out period of self-isolation, and it was invigorating. I had suddenly found a simultaneous outlet and power I had over the nationwide restrictions.
I was restrained to my home, I had little power in that regard. But nothing could stop me from making those little paper cranes. In the last 12 hours, I have made an embarrassing number of paper cranes but I don’t see an end in sight.