Breathing

Before entering college, I wasn't really sure of everything, and I mean EVERYTHING! It seemed that the element of surprise was so much into me, chasing me like the shadows in my past that I didn't want to uncover again. It was dark, I was missing something, and it was really hard in my part-- I guess, my life was as dull as it is without having dreams, plans, and the will to accomplish something that my heart and my personality have long sought to be with as a comfort zone. I realized, "Maybe, this wasn't for me after all..."

... To be honest, I'm not really interested in going to fine schools and such. For so long, what I've been trying to achieve and attain was something beyond what the material world could offer, something only the mind could comprehend, an abstract matter, something that I could hold on to and say, "This is the road that I chose and I'm happy with it!" For so long I've waited and waited and waited. When I was in High School, I thought that solving equations and analyzing them were where my heart was directing me to. Like my compass, I followed to where it would take me with hands held tight grasping to what I believed in, what I believed to be the foundation of the building of my dreams, to finally find my "home."


After a few months of my stay here in this college, I realized I've been missing something that my heart and my life itself was passionate about. I missed writing.

When I was in high school, I often wrote in my English class and for the school paper. Looking back into those days, it was then that like a fish, I was hooked. I wrote about several things and was happy knowing and hearing my classmates and my teachers themselves appreciate what my hands created. My smiles would always bridge rainbows in the skies when I hear them, I was happy. Now in college, from what I remembered, NEVER was there a  chance for me to express again what my hands used to express, and to create what this mind and heart used to create. It was a deadlock-sealing my hands in a tight and cold casket soon to be buried with live flesh and fresh blood flowing through it. It killed me.

Now, I realized, writing is my passion and I want to learn more, to improve, to express what I feel, to share my thoughts and beliefs, to influence people, to make them laugh, to make them cry, to have them shocked in awe, to inspire and to make them believe in things that they should. Most of all I realized, this was what my heart was thirsty for, what it considered food. It was like I was freed from chains that locked me up. It was like I was released into the wild, into the fields, into the skies with arms wide open, and boldly embracing the sense it brought. It was like breathing.. yeah, breathing...