Pilot

This is the end of a journey. We are now in a stage where all we can see is the night, pitch black, with only the moon to guide us as the sole light. We are almost at the top. The way was so rocky, just like we know it. But in our hearts, we all know it was worth it. All the suffering, all the crying, all the strength employed in this hike, all of it had a meaning, and it’s just so beautiful. Holding hands, we are all destined for something greater, for something that will launch us into a new world, a new view, a new sky… We will be free, finally. We will be able to live our lives the way we want it. 

But this is not just the end, and we know it. We are aware that there is a way much harder than before, waiting for us after this milestone. But just like a child filled with wonder, we will brave this way with curiosity. Just like an innocent child, we will look at the scorpion and think it pretty because it is shiny. And we’ll be disappointed, and sad, when things don’t go the way we expected. But we will heal and move on to even bigger things. We will transcend this reality that we were born in, and fly higher than ever before. We will win. 

So this is the end. But it’s also the pilot episode of this new season of our lives. 

This is me not giving up

You made the silence even more suffocating. But there was nothing I could do and, as you faded away, so did the day. 
But I can’t worry about that now. We’re in a race to the top, holding our breaths and waiting for the mountain to allow us to see the view. 

So I can’t stop to look for you now. 

But this is not the end, because I can’t let you go, at least not now, when I still hear the bells singing whenever I wake up. 

So it’s not now, but… Eventually it will be. 

And the view in front of us will be magnificent. 

Full circle

I was looking at old photos again. It seems that, everytime something major in my life is changing, I get this urge to look at old pictures and compare that time with the present, and also imagine what it would be like to travel to the past and what I would change. I know I can’t go back and stop certain things from happening, or do things I wish I had done before. But this exercise makes me remember who I am now and why. Everything that I’ve been through.

Now as I’m in a phase of transformation, of endings, of begginings, I feel this urge more than ever. I often catch myself thinking about high school and the freshman year in college, meditating about all the people I’ve met and had to let go, and all the achievements I reached.

But today I feel differently… Like some of the things in my life have come full circle.

In the past, I always used to worry about being alone forever. Now I know I’m never going to be alone. Even if I end up living completely by myself, I’ll never be alone, because my friends and family will always stay in my heart. Their love will never leave me. The happy memories will also be here, they’re engravedĀ in the stars, never to disappear.

So now I’m feeling nostalgic and, at the same time, hopeful.

Here’s to tomorrow.

What if things are not okay at the end?

What if you’ve worked so hard but you never achieve that thing you’re looking for?

The peace I’ve always wanted may not be coming at all. I’ve given my blood, I’ve given my body, my mind, my everything for it, and in the end I may not receive it.

What kind of world is this?

“Work hard”, the posters say, “and your dreams will come true”. But I’ve worked for so many days and all the good it did was give me a few health problems and a little practice on something so specific I may not be able to use it at all. What experience is this?

And she – the boss – wants me to stay longer in this job, to postpone my leave! Are you f***ing kidding me?

My chest hurts. I’m too stressed out. I can’t sleep properly. I have big challenges coming in college. My senior thesis isn’t going to write itself.

The answer is NO, Miss!

No way I’m staying longer than necessary. I’m running and never looking back.

There has to be something better out there for me.

light

What I did was out of necessity. I had to let go of some things that were dragging me down. I had to choose what is right and wrong for me, so that i can focus. To see clearly, to bring out only the best to the light. 

That’s why I cleaned out my closet. 

Donating clothes is like allowing the time associated with them to finally go away. To accept you’re not the same person that wore that shirt, so it no longer reflects who you are. And if doesn’t, you can’t keep wearing it, like a mask. You have to be honest with yourself. You have to let it go. 

That’s what I did yesterday. I looked at every single piece of clothing in my wardrobe and asked myself, “am I still this person? Does this still make me myself?” If yes, the piece stayed. If not, then it was goodbye. 

It made me feel so light, like there was nothing stopping me now. Like I was free. 

So everything illuminated. 

Lifeline

Her eyes were vacant. She was emptied of her content and broken, like a glass of wine spilled and shattered on the floor. 

He was crazy for her. He would do anything and everything just to see her smile and her eyes shine like they did before. 

The doctor’s word was final. There was no cure for the girl with grey eyes. She had lost her spark. She would live but, as she was now empty, she wouldn’t be feeling much anymore. She wouldn’t be able to feel wonder, or curiosity, and her creativity was snuggled out. She would no longer be able to build entire worlds inside her head like she did before. Her life force was gone. 

It would be more surviving than living, but, she was breathing, she was standing. 

Even if her heart wasn’t beating. 

She tried to go about her normal routine; get up, go to work, come back home. 

He was by her side every second he could. 

And then one day, she cut her finger by accident. The blood trickled out and she realized that it didn’t matter. She didn’t care, because she hadn’t felt it. 

And then she decided there was no point. 

He never saw it coming. One minute, she was by his side, and the next, she was fading away. 

He found her on the roof. The wind was strong up there, ruffling his hair and his clothes and making him feel a bit cold. She was there, standing at the edge, looking down. 

He tried to reason with her, make her believe they could find a way, a cure. 

“You heard the doctor”, she said, her voice cold and lifeless, as if the topic was the weather, “there is no cure”.

“Please, don’t do this. I love you.”

“Love?”

He sighed. She couldn’t understand. There was only one thing he could do. His adoration for her was immense, and he knew he’d be lost without her. 

“If you’re going down”, he stated with a firm voice, “We go down together”.

She turned to look at him. His eyes were big and sincere. 

“You’re not alone. I’m with you.”

He closed his eyes and jumped off the edge of the building. 

In a matter of seconds, she knew she couldn’t allow this to happen. A tiny flameignited inside of the girl, and she started forward. 

Desperation. 

Determination. 

It was the first time in a long time that she started to feel again. 

Her hands grasped his arm as he was beginning to fall and she pulled him back so hard they both fell on the ground. 

She looked at the boy beside her and felt the tiny flame burn higher and higher. Hear heart began to beat faster than ever before. Suddenly thousands of lights, images, words, sounds, smells, and sensations and stories and characters washed through her, and it was like she had found her voice again. She was not silent anymore. 

Her soul began to sing again. 

The boy was shocked. He looked at the girl and was overjoyed. Her eyes were not vacant anymore. He could feel the fire burning within them. Her life force was given back to her. 

“You’re back”, he said, holding back tears. He looked at her in wonder and realized he could see all of the universe in them, all of the worlds she had created. 

“You woke me up”, she said. He smiled and she kissed him. 

“I love you too.”

Of how a writer found her voice again because of love. 

Still yawning, she made her way to her desk. It was messy, like all the mornings before. Her computer was put aside and there were clothes strewn around everywhere. She was still tired, even though she slept soundly through almost nine hours, and the girl thought about giving up. Just rest. There was no hurry, after all. But she remembered that there were too many things to do and she realized that, if she could do at least one of them, it would be progress. In her vains ran the blood of strong women. So she cleaned her desk and got started.