Chessboards of Life

I’m not a game. You can’t just save your progress now and come back when you feel like it. You can’t evolve me to the next level when you get bored of where I am at currently. I don’t want to be a game. For anyone. 

You want my best qualities, but none of the worst. You want my smiles, but not my tears. I’m moody. I’m independent. I’m ambitious. I’m passionate. That is what makes me who I am. Take me or leave me. 

I’m full of love, so no, I do not need yours. Don’t forget that. I’m sure of myself because I know what I want: to be love. Not gain it from other people. I want to give love to others and to myself. 

I’m not a pon on a chessboard. I am the chessboard. I neither win or lose a game. I simply am. I don’t care if you are a friend, lover, or family member. If you want to win, then stop playing the game. 

Dreams

One of the best feelings in the world is the euphoria of knowing that the ones you love the most understand your dreams. Does this happen often? I don’t know.

It’s not that these people won’t be supportive. A lot are. However, sometimes it seems that you keep hitting a wall when people question why you sacrifice so much and think so decisively about your future.

My eyes have almost always been future focused. It has been when I glance back at the past behind me, or find myself settling for the present that I lose my identity. I forget what it is to be myself. My worst fear in life is losing my identity. The betrayal of forgetting myself is heart wrenching. Adversity is comfortable to me. Betrayal is not.

Sometimes I feel insane when people ask me what I am doing or why I am putting myself through this stress. I feel as if there is something fundamentally wrong with me and my structure of being is trembling around me. I know that I will never stop because I can never afford to.

I have to keep analyzing my future with pinched eyes because my dreams are such a big part of what makes me what I am. Even when people don’t understand where I’m coming from or insist that my reasoning is irrational. I sacrifice to make myself sure of who I am. To create my own happiness.

Keep dreaming.

What Are We Doing? 

What are we doing?

I sit in class and watch all the people. A girl puts on deodorant and mascara. She must have woken up late. A girl shops for athletic tanktop and sips on her smoothie. Others sleep, watch sports, or doodle in a notebook. And I watch. Take it in. Wondering what we are all doing?

I tune into the professor’s lecture, trying to teach what I consider common sense. Do others think this is common sense? Or is it just me? Is this why they tune out? Or is it because they don’t care?

There is this world around us, full of possibilities. We can be anything we want to be because we were lucky enough to be born in a first world country. And yet. We do nothing. We sit here. Texting. Yawning. Sleeping. Shopping.

Where is the adventure? The social activism? The familial love? The inspiration to do more and build ourselves? Prosper not through money or basic knowledge, but through spiritual growth?

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