Thursday, December 15, 2011

Quarter Life Crisis.

As I approached, second by second, minute by minute, god-forsaken MLA citation by citation, the end of my college career, I was privately engaging in a series of mini-mental breakdowns and moments of reflection. Color me typical: all of the usual college senior questions have been racing through my mind at every waking moment. Namely:

- Where did the last three and a half years go?
- What do I have to show for it?
- What the fuck do I do now?

Ideally, we all want to charge ahead into the next phase of our lives with confidence and poise, whether it be graduate school, landing that dream job, or marrying The One and having ten kids. In the end, we just want to make a name for ourselves, on however big or small of a scale.

Where will my mark be left?

I don't care if it's simply in the hearts of my close friends and family, or if it's in the hearts of people all over the world. I don't care of I'm remembered or forgotten by others around me. All I want is to make a mark in my own heart, during my last breath, knowing that I lived a life that I was satisfied with. I know it sounds cliche, but it's the truth -- and is it too much to ask?

Considering all the fuck-ups and missteps that will inevitably occur along the way, considering the fact that I will die with wrinkles on my face -- is it too much for me to hope that those very wrinkles will not be because of the fuck-ups and missteps, but because of the laughter and smiles that have etched themselves into my skin?

And maybe I sound like an overplayed, worn out record. Maybe there is nothing original in anything that I am saying. But who doesn't have that innate, inherent desire to feel fulfilled with their life? Who doesn't want to die knowing that each breath was not a waste? Who doesn't want to have felt human at one point, whether in pain and vulnerability or in joy and ecstasy, or any raw emotion that makes them agree that they have felt alive?

The truth is, all I want is to feel this electricity, this vibrancy, this deep breath that is called being alive, for the rest of my life. No matter what the circumstances.


Me -- because for once, I am.

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