The forming of words put together to produce a life. A life filled with pain, struggle and
depression. A way to live a life: by being positive and appreciating all that you have. Then
there is another way, one that views life as negative and not worth living. This way was all
I have ever known. My writing expresses and represents my life: poems, memoirs and journal
entries. These are pieces of me, of my soul, and they have saved me. They are my life-savers,
my tools for survival.
Now, at this point in my life, I want to change. I don’t want to be negative, sad or
bitter concerning life. I don’t want to dwell on what I’ve lost or what could have
been. I don’t want to be selfish. I want to look at what I have and appreciate it. I
want to be strong and confident. I want to be what my mother has hoped for me. I want her to
be proud of me. Being happy is my goal, and what I most desire. With this new self, I will
have the ability to achieve happiness.
With this aim and plan in mind, I find myself at a crossroads, in a contradiction. By being
happy and positive, will I betray the self that I have come to know and accept? Changing my
attitude would mean looking at my writing as the representation of a bad self. But my writing
helped me to survive and to continue living when I left helpless. How could I look at it with
disdain? To me, the most beautiful poems are about sadness. How could I write about happiness?
I would lose my creativity—and how could I live without that?
I guess no matter how you change for the better, you still lose something of yourself in the
process. In order to change my life for the better, I had to let go of my father. I still mourn
his absence. Knowing that someone whom I adore, who has a face similar to mine, is aging and
getting closer to death without me, is hard. But I had to make that sacrifice to create a better
life for myself. I’ve come to terms with the loss of a parent, but I don’t think
I can let go of my writing.
What is a life without struggles or mistakes to learn from? Now I feel that I am embracing
my pain and depression. With my poems and memoirs I have honored these emotions and damaging
experiences. I have learned so much as a result. The life I have lived so far contradicts with
the changes that I want to make; I am confused when I try to understand who I am.
I guess the point of life is not knowing. No one knows what the future is going to
bring. Life would not be worth living if it were otherwise. I am still struggling within myself
to find the answers to the endless questions of my life, but I guess its okay. Or maybe it
isn’t. I don’t have the answer to that question either.