How I Fell in Love with Writing Again

I had this love for writing.

It was amazing simply because words could not describe how passionate I was about it. I would write about anything and everything; if I were being honest, most of my writing didn’t make sense, but that’s okay because I don’t make sense.

Writing is just another form of expression, and I loved it because I could still express myself with no judgment. (Okay, that’s a complete lie, someone will always be judging you.)  I could write however I wanted to and face little to no consequences because for every person opposing me, another could always relate/understand. As empowering as I felt when writing, I eventually fell out of love with writing. It no longer kept me happy, instead, it felt like a chore. I felt like in order for my writing to matter, it had to be deep, filled with wisdom and appreciative. After a while, I was no longer writing for myself and my experiences, but rather, writing for other people through their experiences.

I took a little hiatus and learned that the love of writing never really left when I arrived on campus. I moved in early, and as “homey” as Whitewater felt, I was still away from home and on my own. When I would get frustrated, I immediately turned to a form of writing. If I had something to say but didn’t have the courage to actually express it, I turned to writing. Writing was a solution and there I found that I never fell out of love with writing in the first place.

Just like any true relationship, you never really fall out of love with the subject/object at hand; sometimes you just need to return to square one again and discover all the reasons why you fell in love with it in the first place.

I guess, what I’m trying to say is, never convince yourself that you don’t love something anymore just because you hit a roadblock. Not everyone will agree with the way you think, not everyone will support how you feel and that’s okay. If you truly love something, the way I love writing, then continue to pursue it because everything requires time, patience, and understanding.

“Writing is an exploration. You start from nothing and learn as you go.”

-E. L. Doctorow


Make Peace With Yourself

Before you run off to college, make peace with yourself. Don’t run off with a heavy heart, a guilty conscious, and a list filled with things unsaid. If you absolutely need to run, then go, run like the wind, but know that everything will catch up eventually so do not find comfort in running.

To my ladies, do not wait for a knight in shining armor to save you. Save yourself, find yourself, and make peace with yourself.

To my men, do not wait for the next princess to save your “damaged soul”.  Save yourself, find yourself, and make peace with yourself.


I’m not saying you need to go explore nature and be one with yourself, as nice as that may sound, but I am saying take some time to know and learn from yourself. For example, one day, when I was re-organizing my book self, it completely fell apart. I nearly cried because my bookshelf represented my life and just before me it crumbled. I tried to fix it, but it just kept falling apart. Finally, I took a step back and looked at the bigger picture. Instead of trying to fix it all at once, I took my time and started small. That day, I learned that I need to slow down. Instead of tackling things all at once and rushing, I needed to start small and be patient with myself.

You don’t have to go into the wilderness and find peace within yourself, you can do it anywhere, really. So once again, take the time to understand yourself, be patient with yourself, and make peace with yourself.



Summer of 2016

One word to describe the summer of 2016- Bittersweet

As my summer slowly comes to an end, I can’t help but cherish these bittersweet memories. The summer of 2016 will definitely be one of those memories that I look back on in 10 years and regret absolutely nothing. I’ve had a lot of time for some self-reflection and freedom, and I can honestly tell you, I am not the same person I was at the beginning of this summer.

When I look back, I will remember the endless supply of ice-cream, the smell of the beach, the feel of the sand, and most importantly the late night doughnut runs with my best friends. I will remember the feel of the sun on my face as I kayaked for the first time this summer, the texture of the grass on my bare feet, and the occasional thunderstorms that calmed my soul.

I will recall the endless string of heartbroken boys and girls as they head off to college, the late night talks with my best friends that eventually led to arguments, and the random, last minute, hang outs.

This is the summer that I learned to appreciate beauty; beauty within the world, beauty within my friends, beauty within life, and beauty within me.

So, as I head off to college as a freshmen in the next couple weeks, I will cling dearly to the lessons I’ve learned this summer. Everyone tells you that college will be the best years of your life, but no one talks about how it all begins in the summer before your freshmen year.

Summer of 2016, filled with lessons, freedom, and beauty. It is my pleasure to say a bittersweet goodbye to the most memorable summer yet.



Drowning my Demons

And just like that, all those memories, those feelings, that scared little girl came rushing forward. She swam to the surface again, to take a deep breathe before being violently shoved into the water and dragged away by it’s currents.

I thought she drowned with her demons. I thought she sacrificed herself so that her demons would be satisfied… but I was wrong.

One word. One memory. And they all came back.

Her demons fought free and made their way to the surface towards me as I watch the little girl gasped desperately for air. Her eyes pleaded with me, they were begging for me to save her this time and I tried to comply, but as I reached out to pull her to safety, I froze.

She looked me over once and understood, I wasn’t ready to save her yet and  I didn’t know if I would ever be ready.

So she gathered her demons once again and waited patiently as they shoved her violently beneath the surface. I watched her use her soul as an anchor to contain the demons beneath the surface just long enough for the next trigger to come running along. It was then that I realized the little girl took my face, and she held my demons while she prayed and hope that when the next trigger came, I would be ready.

When that day comes again, we both prayed and hoped that I could make her demons my angels and we would both be saved.