I’ve missed the daily hour when my pen had to meet paper; when journals were supposed to be written. I feel as though its time to bring it back again. Though high school is far behind me, I’ll never forget my love for daily journals.
There’s a certain type of gratitude and joy that comes from rummaging through loose-leaf papers, possibly stained with coffee among other things, each pertaining to a different moment in time. Each would likewise carry and illustrate past states of mind. And each would appear to be a layout to my developing train of thought, as well as ideals. Like a maze, many would seemingly get lost along the way or jump in within the middle of a high-tide. Creating this archive of my past works is one of the best decisions I have ever made. Though part of the nostalgia and excitement is lost from making a random and unexpected discovery of a long-lost treasure, it better allows me to see where I was two years ago in comparison to now. The fact that others have been actively interested in my work is just a humble bonus. I love writing. It helps me see a side of me I might ordinarily quell under busywork and disregard. Surely there are more understandings to be made. Thanks for joining the wave. – Sincerely, an open ocean
United States 1606
United Kingdom 75
United Arab Emirates 3
South Africa 2
Hong Kong SAR China 1
New Zealand 1
South Korea 1
United Arab Emirates 1
I can feel it in my stomach. It’s sitting there, upset, and unrelenting. I try to tame it sometimes, but then it gets caught up in my throat. That’s when I realize my best bet is to stay silent. The silence can only go on for so long. Before I know it, I feel it in my eyes. They grow heavy, yet they are begging for me not to close them. If I close them then they start to water. And when they start to water, everything falls back into that unrelenting force in the opposite order they appeared. My stomach falls back into pain, my throat clogs up with all the jumble my brain has left to spew, and my eyes are a broken levy. The worst part is that my heart is left beating, at a pace I’m unaccustomed to, and at a sickening flow that runs me dry while asking me for too much.
That’s why I try my best to avoid crying. It’s a physical pain that is overshadowed by an even deeper emotional collision of sorts. These are the tears from true sorrow or uncertainty though. They’re a rarity nowadays, and for good reason.
I’ve cried for a variety of reasons in the past, but the most damning and heartbreaking was the time when I couldn’t find it within me to cry. I remember that day so well. I was a broken mess on the inside, but my eyes wouldn’t display it. I felt like my pain was a fraud; I wasn’t crying like the others. I looked sane and wholesome. No one would have guessed that I was a fragment of myself, torn by the cutting of thread that delineates life or death. When I think back to that day, I usually catch a tear come down my face, and a pain in my chest that never quite settles. But that past cold self always stands as a reminder of how not crying can be even more painful than crying yourself dry. I don’t think I’ll ever know why my body wouldn’t translate the emotions I was feeling on the inside on that one spring day, but it still haunts me.
Today, these tears came swiftly. They impeached me to lay in my bed and listen to the sounds of my surroundings. Though, muddled they were. I laid here in fear of losing everything, and knowing that I was probably the one left to be thought of as the least concerned. I’m nowhere close to home like the others, but my pain is as alive and festering as theirs. I’d be there if I could.
I hope that she’s okay. I hope that she can feel my prayers. I hope that she’s already dismissed from the hospital and at home, healthy, with our loved ones. I hope she knows I miss her dearly.
Topic: Reflection to perfection.
I believe that we all search for different things, but the endpoint is all the same; happiness. Some can find it in a fulfilling career, others in friends, some in family, others in relationships. I’d like to assume that mine would lie in a career considering how school-focused I have always been. But as soon as I stepped away from such a heavy focus on hitting the books, I realized that we tend to find different forms of happiness in all fields. There’s happiness from friends and family and work and knowledge and so on. The one that I believe I have waited for, or have put on a hold in a sense, is that which comes from finding someone I could see myself happy with. That’s a major life event if you consider the stages of development in psychology. Intimacy v. Isolation. I don’t think it’s all that simple or easy to generalize, but I understand the concept.
I told myself there is always time for that in the future, whenever I feel as though I’m ready for that. I believe I’m at a better place now than where I was a year ago. Good stuff I suppose.
I also know I don’t want to fall for something resembling that of what I said I wouldn’t. I knew how a certain person in my life was when it came to relationships. And I told myself, never someone like him. The fear instilled in me was that I’d end up falling for a similar thing, but with a different face. That fear is more real than ever.
Place me in between a rock and a hard place, and I’ll push my way through. Place me in between the thing I want to avoid and what I actually want, and you’ll see that I’m stuck and too scared to find a way up. I’m a big girl now, in a bigger world. I think it’s time to revert to where I started from. He will build me back up, like a disease to which our antibodies come to recognize now; stronger.
Topic: Reflect on where you were before this semester, and where you stand now afterwards.
Before the semester started, I was in all sorts of stories. I got to watch them unravel or wind up. It’s weird I’ll tell you that. I’m not the same person I was before the semester, but I don’t think that bothers me too much. It’s not that I wasn’t a fan of that girl before, but I like who I am now too. I liked them both, for different reasons.
One gave me hope in ideals bigger than man while the other helped me walk away from chasing something that can’t be captured.
My body feels different, as does my mind. My mind has made some new tracts in my mind, and every now and then I go down those tracts. Its fun to see where they lead. My mind didn’t do a 360 though. I am who I am. I can look in the mirror and see a familiar face. The thing is that it’s a face that has seen the four seasons and has grown past them.
I’m solid. I’m doing pretty good. I’m not turning into brittle, or however that expression goes. I’m not crumbling under stress or withering with the wind. I’m far from decaying. I feel as though I was that plant someone forgot to water, and now that the rain has finally come, I’m turning all sorts of green. So let me grow. Let me do my thing.
My thing isn’t wrong or strange or absurd. It’s just my way of living. I feel as though I’m going to be reaching all new heights in the near future. And I am excited for them. Both hands clasped together you’ll find me there praying. Praying for all sorts of things. Most importantly though, I’m praying for those ideals I realized were beyond anyone’s reach.
You mean a lot to me, and its progressively mounting. I never thought I’d be the one on the other side of the line, but I am. I want to paint over the line and act like it was never there. I also want to kick some dirt over it, hiding it. That’s not me though. I saw that line, and then I was one step ahead of it. Three steps behind.
My head was a jumble of everything. I was here, but somehow there. I closed my eyes and I swear I could see you. It’s funny how our minds work. I wish mine was ahead of the game. It gradually turned into the game. I couldn’t escape the game, and I couldn’t win it. There are no winners or losers here this time my friend. There is only the daze that follows. Questions are posed, and I can’t answer them.
I’d have to evaluate why I haven’t done an Honesty Hour in the past three or four days, and I’d have to answer for my decisions.
I haven’t done an Honesty Hour because I’ve been so incredibly busy with my coursework. I can see the light over the mountains of pages of reading I have, so it’s a good sign. But I have a month left so it’s full speed ahead until I get to move passed that mountain. I’ve had a good reason for not writing, but is any reason a good reason when it’s Honesty Hour? That, I’m not entirely sure.
I agreed to go out there and try new things, like any adventurous college student. It should be fun to explore new places, you know? I’ll get to know some people along the way. So I won’t stand up straight and try to ramble off my reasons for why I do what I do. I’m not that person anymore. I don’t know where she went, but something told me she scurried away when she found the chance to run. I won’t try to find her right now; I’m too preoccupied with school for that.
I’m excited for the future, nonchalant about the present, stressed about my work, but confident that I’ll make it out just fine. So presently, I’m decently decent. I’ll let the stress just slide off in the near future, and I won’t try to stop it. Good things are coming. That’s what I can gather from the present.
I’ve got tomorrow on my mind because tomorrow can be a pivotal day. I have registration at 9, an essay to finish, an important appointment at 2, a lunch date with Andrea at 4, and more essay-writing till 7. Tomorrow will drain me, but it will also probably change me.
I’m afraid to hear what’s already on my mind, but I signed up for this. Tomorrow will be a long day. I know that I will get through it and I know that after tomorrow some of my heavy load will chip off, but I still have to get through tomorrow.
I can’t wait to see Andrea though! She’s astounding. It’s been too long quite honestly.
I wish this could be more insightful, but it’s not because tomorrow has yet to actually happen. I hope all goes well, and I hope my meeting doesn’t throw me in a tail-spin either.
Everyone will have that one dreaded ‘tomorrow’ at some point in their lives. Maybe it’s actually tomorrow, or maybe it’s in a year from now. Just know that you can get through that day. It might not be easy or pain-free or scar-free, but a day consists of 24 hours/1440 minutes/86,400 seconds. Tell me when to start counting.