When I was twelve years old, I dreamt about becoming a model. It was stereotypical, but it seemed like heaven at that time. But I soon grew up to realize I wasn't tall enough and I certainly couldn't balance books atop my rounded head, so it became too hard for me too fast.
When I was 14, I dreamt of becoming an doctor. But when my aunt decided to enlighten me on how many years it took to become one, I was again discouraged. So basically, I had nothing left. My thoughts had run dry and my final solution was just a regular desk job, a normal profession, I suppose. So of course, at the first offer I got, I grabbed it like a child grabbing candy out of a stranger's hand. So afraid, but eager to have. So here I am, training to be a lawyer. Perhaps being a partner someday. But I guess thinking ahead will only cause me trouble since all of the times I had I failed miserably. There was evidence too. If that wasn't sad, I didn't know what was. Example number one: Jonathan Rings. He was my high school boyfriend. He was the type of guy that would judge you harshly by day and love you like a soul mate at night. Needless to say, he was gone as fast as I could say, 'Put your pants back on and turn on the cold water. You're not getting any tonight, sicko.' And what's worse, is that wasn't the only failed supposed 'love' experience I've ever had. In fact, I recall two or three in my later years. I can't believe I even let those three words slip out my mouth so many times. Idiot? Yes, I certainly am. Example number two: After Jonathan came many other men. Men that wanted to take advantage of me. I hadn't learned from Jonathan to know better like I know I should have, but I had just learned not to get hurt. My solution for that at the time, was to never love again and never, ever let anyone close. If they grew too close, they would see my vulnerability. They would see my strength crumble like an Oreo cookie dissolved in milk. They would put my emotions on display again. I didn't need that. So I simply never let anyone into my heart. And because of this intense plan to stop myself from being vulnerable, it only backfired into millions shards of glass for me and I became the opposite. I was again this broken girl in her suit of vulnerability. Naturally, people took advantage of this. I let my eyes do the seeing and my heart never even bothered to take a glance at all. As a result of this, I had been beaten down. My self esteem stripped. And now I was this lone, bare, woman with all of her emotions open like a split watermelon, ready for anyone to read or feed into. All of this only made the hurt inside of me expand until I could feel no more pain. Until it became a nonexistent emotion in the back of my heart. Pain turned into anguish and partly regret. My third and hopefully, major mistake in my life was my acceptance letter to Columbia University. I wanted this so bad that I could taste it. I tasted it all in my mouth, fierce and bitter. I wanted to leave this small town and escape as far away as possible. I couldn't stand the familiar faces in this town anymore. The numb pain in my face was etched there for an eternity, but perhaps I wouldn't have to see the faces of my enemies that turned me into a shell of a woman. It was great when I was accepted, of course it was. But it caused the whole school to launch an uproar when they heard that I was getting a scholarship to one of America's finest colleges. It just added fuel to the fire. This was their ammunition; this was their chance to give me even more dirty looks. They thought I hadn't heard all the whispering in the halls, but all the time my ears were on overdrive and I heard everything. Every last bit of hate that rolled out of their tongues. But I knew, that it would all be over soon. I knew that once I got to Columbia everything would be better. But I was so very wrong. As I'm starting to wrap up my third year and final year in law school, I begin to realize that college isn't as cracked up as I thought it would be. The smoke billowing from the student parking lots late at night when college students needed a break from their term papers and finding solace in a rolled cigarette was not refreshing, but incredibly depressing. The loud, booming parties where people got drunk until they managed to find enough willpower to take off all their clothes and run around like a wild man made me feel cheap and dirty though I was not the one in their birthday suit. And the worst of it all was that it was so boring. So relenting. I found no pleasure in it. College…was just college. It wasn't a new experience. It wasn't a new life. It was just..nothing. After all my perceptions of college being so great and good for me, I managed to contradict myself and prove myself so utterly wrong. So when realization hit, I decided not to care anymore. And I suppose, this was my mistake in life. I shut out all men, I showed no interest to men with wandering eyes, my life became secluded and terribly lonely. I had drifted away from my friends. I had nothing, really. So I up and quit. I quit my whole life, I let everything go like dropping an egg from a tall building. It was just like that. A regular Tuesday morning. I woke up, got dressed in a crisp black suit and a pair of regular heels. Not too boring, not too flashy. Just...me. And when I entered the building in which I worked, I quit. It seemed natural, really. And at the time, I hadn't even given a second thought about it. It was as fluid and languid as pouring tea into a mug I had used for three years. So after declaring my final goodbye, I stared at my desk and began collecting my belongings. Not too many mementos. Just a pen I had gotten for Christmas from one of my co-workers, little toys I kept around to remind myself I wasn't as uptight as I thought I was, and a picture frame that held random pictures of my life. I stuffed this all into my handbag, and just fled. Running to the elevator, pressing the buttons frantically, and dying to get out of the stuffy office building. As soon as I passed through the revolving doors in the lobby, a huge gust of wind propelled through my lungs, causing me to breathe the cold New York breeze. This was when I began to realize what I really had to do. |