Apathy frustrates me.

Three Weeks From Now...

I'll be in Europe for two months. 

I try, but i still can't describe this feeling. Is it excitement? Is it fear? Probably both. I feel like I'm standing on the edge of a diving board. you know that tingly feeling you get in your toes when you realize how high up you are... where your stomach drops and your head feels a little bit lighter. Its kinda like that. and on this diving board you're faced with two choices: cautiously working your way down that ladder to plant your feet safely back on the ground or holding your breath, closing your eyes, and taking that dive. 

i'm taking the dive. 

i made a promise to myself when i was six years old that i was going to see the world. its the only goal i've ever set that has never been compromised. by the end of this blog i probably would have beaten this diving board metaphor to death, so forgive me ahead of time, but every step up this ladder that i've taken in the past fourteen years has been to get me to this point. so, i'm standing on this diving board and, ready or not, i refuse to climb down. i've struggled for this moment for too long to turn back now or to let anyone or anything take this away from me. i deserve this. 

but to be honest, a part of me is scared more than i've ever been before. i'm about to take a huge step. by myself, for myself. 

i know that when i resurface i probably won't be the same girl as before the dive. its bittersweet, as always.

My Heart Belongs To

My heart belongs to a place where my legs dangle carelessly above the waves crashing down on a cement wall, staring a distance i could possibly swim with enough will power. at times, i am convinced that it would have been easier to let the waves bring me home then the route i chose, but i'm home nonetheless. the bottle of rum i'm holding makes friends for me in a place where my words are useless. in between marriage proposals that my sister has to translate for me from the men who i've never met and will never see again, the warm night air blows my way and dries off my skin, moist from the humidity of the long, long day. my sister and i throw our heads back in laugher and the guitar rhythms pick up pace. their voices synchronize naturally into three part harmonies i still have yet to master despite my years of voice training; their hips are smooth and tempt me. a student from the university takes my hand and we dance, i'm able to follow his steps that seem as foreign to me as every word that came out of his mouth, but my feet understand and that's all the matters.

hamburgers

i can't sleep when i know i should and this feeling is all too familiar lately. writing used to come so naturally to me, but now i can't tell you how many nights i've turned into mornings in the seclusion of my uninspiring dorm room. i'm constantly  battling with myself just trying to find the right words but they never come out right anymore... and it leaves me with this restlessness and anxiety because i've lost the ability to express myself. hours spent in vain and all i have to show for it is an overused delete button and a bunch of ink wasted scribbling out sentences that didn't convey my thoughts. its enough to make me punch a wall or something, but i still have enough sense in me to know i'd most likely break my hand in the process. 

 i blame my honors english teacher in 11th grade for shoving hamburger-style essays down my throat. little did i know that i was practically selling my soul for structure and conformity. dramatic, i know, but there was no room in those hamburgers for discovering who i was and slowly my means of expression turned into a chore. save emotions for art class or music, they teach us (but try to take those away too). now i'm here trying to break down this divide that those damn hamburgers created between my heart and my head and just write again like i used to from that honest place inside of me uncorrupted by anyone else's expectations.