Writings from Experience

1.

When he was 5-months-old, his hands reached for the toy above him. The whale spinning around seemed to fascinate him, but not as much as the puffy yellow star right next to it. He giggled with glee as “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” played along with the moving carousel.

When he was 5-years-old he would stare at the glow-in-the-dark stars that were latched to his ceiling. He would dream of the planets and galaxies surrounding his. His drawings were filled of the night sky with a midnight sky and white gleaming stars.

When he was 10-years-old he was given a telescope to view the wonders of the sky. He would see airplanes pass by, soaring through the clouds. One time he was lucky enough to see a shooting star pass just a mile from his bedroom window. He contained his jubilance of the wondrous sight. It was a sign from the heavens.

When he was 15-years-old he forgot about his dream. His faith had altered. His friends were going for a more practical approach as he dreamt about worlds outside of his. His fantasy was exactly that, what more could come of it?

When he was 20-years-old he found solace in drugs and alcohol. His unfulfilled dream was suppressed under the weight of disapproval and doubt. He would still gaze at the moon for help. Haley’s comet passed.

When he was 26-years-old, he enrolled in the NASA program.

When he was 32-years-old, he graduated.

Now he’s 38 and going on his fifth trip into space, and every time he does, he feels his adrenaline pumping. The rocket blasts off and he sees the sky coming towards him. Breaking through the atmosphere, home is behind him, but his real home is here amongst the stars.

2.

When you lose the capability to do something, it forces you to cope without it, but when you have it back, you use it 'til your last breath. The joy of being able to use it, whether it be your newfound sight, happiness, sense of taste, sense of smell, sends chills of euphoria to your soul.

Once upon a time, I lost my voice. For a very long time I wasn’t able to stick up for myself because I didn’t have the courage to do so. I kept quiet in all cases and dealt with my troubles internally. I did my best not to argue and I’d suffocate from the knots in my throat that would build up from the things I never said. Then one time, I actually lost my voice.

I’d just had brain surgery and things had went awry. The section of my brain the neurologists were working on had differed to the one that was affected. I lost my voice—to be more specific, my speech. I knew what things were internally, but I wasn’t able to pronounce the words no matter how hard I tried. It lasted around three days long, but it felt like forever.

I was like a newborn trying to pronounce my first words, and I’d cry when I couldn’t. It took time to recover and even longer to gain my speech back. I began saying what I wanted and learned to be more direct in what I wanted, not only from others but myself as well. I realized how important words were and decided not to live my life hiding from what I truly feel.

It hurt to not being physically able to tell my mom that I loved her. To know that you want to say something but can’t get the words out. After that, I never stood quiet again.

3.

I’ve been through this before; this pain. I’ll probably have to go through it again, but it’s fine. With every heartbreak I get a step closer to know who I really want to be with and what I deserve. I’ve gone through this routine over and over again that by now I should know how long it should take me to move on, but every heartbreak differs. Pain lasts as long as you want it to.

Usually it takes me a week to start feeling more confident, since I’ve gained my confidence. I wish the time period was shorter but I need every minute of it to cleanse myself from these emotions. It’s going to be a struggle, because pain isn’t easy to deal with but in the end I’ll come out a better person.

I can’t keep pitying myself and praying for a different scenario. Some people don’t prove their effort and those are the ones to be cautious of, especially if you’re one to give your all. I don’t want to look at my reflection and see the weakness that envelops me. I am better than that and even if it will take some time, I have the strength to persevere.

I love myself too much to care for someone who couldn’t care less about me. I know my worth and if that’s true, then I need to pick myself back up. Only I can choose to heal myself. Only I can choose to change my life. Only I can make the decisions to who I choose to be, and that’s the beauty of it.

I’ll try not hide my emotions when they are too much. I’ll cry when it hurts most and the pain is too much to handle. I’ll try not pretend to be fine, because it’s okay not to be. It’s okay to feel empty. It’s okay to feel sad. It’s okay to feel. It’s not okay to let it consume me. I’ll look at my reflection and realize who I am and who I can be. There are so many wonders one can do once they let go of their burden.