Work, work, work and more work was the motto of my day today.

A phone call with my college counselor, which rang as a strict alarm clock to remind me of college to come.

Skyping with my best friend, who was being his usual annoying self, which put me off to a worse off mood.


But the end of that call started it.


The conversation began to get really deep and I realized, yet again, how long of a story surrounds every person. I realized how much there is to a person and how you are not supposed to judge a person based on first look, or even months of friendship because everyone is fighting their own battle to conquer. Someone you think you know all round, you really don’t know their deepest secrets and their darkest fears; but when you do, you realize we’re all just blank canvases waiting to be painted upon.


This morning, I was at the school I visit every weekend to do the Hope Project. That strike of awe struck me once again as I watched the kids with so much of admiration and light in them; only waiting to be ignited. The happiness that they radiated was impeccable to even compare to anything, all because of the fact that I was spending time with them. A common girl like me, standing and talking to them, gave them that level of ecstasy and joy.


That beauty in simplicity stunned me, for the millionth round of my continuous strikes of realization. They continue to teach me that happiness comes in small packages, that cherishing the little things allows you to hold a bigger aura of brightness.


What hurts, however, is the fact that in that bunch of girl children, I continuously wonder how much I can really change. Change comes in small installments and I believe I’m doing all I can; but while reality does hold, those pinches hurt me when I factually find that half of these children that I share a personal connection to are sexually abused. More than half of these children have fathers who come home drunk, spend the mother’s earned salary on poker games or engage in domestic abuse. Yet, these warriors, ignorant of their traumatic happenings in their sole lives, continue to hold that shield up high in the air and emit those precious smiles.


Here I am, with my grandiose life. Yet, another ray of realization and another stem of reflection. I am so lucky to be where I am today. I might have my own set of problems, my own set of expectations. But at least, I have a family who loves me at heights beyond measure, the greatest friends I could even ever dream of asking for, my precious doggy, a book to write on, a home to sleep in and a heart which gives out and receives more love than it could ever even hold.


All these problems that we face throughout every stage in life, are only written in the sand. They’ll wash away with time. I can’t wait until the day we all grow up.

After college.

After marriage.

After having beautiful kids.

After watching them grow up.

After becoming grandparents.

After sitting down in my rocking chair, sighing to myself.


Thinking about how insane of a journey it’s been.

Thinking about how far we’ve come.

Thinking about how we all made it through.

Thinking about how we’ve done it.


Because at the end, it won’t matter about that grade or two you missed out on, or that college you couldn’t get to go to, or that flawless face you were envious of. It’ll just be about how you lived and how you let live and how much you’ve loved and how much you’ve been loved.



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