I wish I could write the way I used to; obsessively, ravenously, writing myself into holes I could only write to get out of. I would write to escape my own reality, but also to face the words I was scared to say aloud. I miss having a space that was only mine, where I could curse and tear pages out and never be told to rewrite my sad ending for a happy one. I also miss the way I could spit out so many ideas in such a short time when I typed them on this blank canvas. A little corner of the internet with a silly name is not a space I ever expected to be noticed, nor is it one I expected to survive through the various phases of the person I have slowly become.
For the past eight months, I’ve wondered why the things that once seemed so easy to do now felt impossible. Each day I noticed myself falling more and more at the feet of others, thinking that I was the main character in their stories as I walked around this real world in clothes no longer dictated by a dress code, hopping from one library to the next, drinking one coffee after another. I thought the people I saw every day noticed that my waist had grown three inches or stared at my social media posts for more than three seconds. I somehow began to believe that people cared about what I wore to class or whether I went out Friday night or if I was pre-med or pre-law or preoccupied with what they thought of me.
I no longer write in a beautiful, hand-woven journal from Colombia like I told myself I would. I write in the margins of my chemistry notes and on the back of my grocery lists filled with bulleted items of chicken breast and a singular pint of real ice cream. I guess this is the real world. Except, it’s the real world where you live surrounded by people exactly like you, in competition with them for something or the other. They either have to want you or want to be you, because if not, you’re doing something wrong. Humans in the real world do not exist just to exist. Real people relinquish that luxury the minute they begin making decisions for themselves, like whether to give up passion for stability or independence for attachment. The real world is cutthroat, and it keeps taking until one day, things come to an equilibrium.
It was one morning, after an all-night dance practice and with a dead phone, that I sat outside on a bench and realized: this is not the real world. I felt confused and at a loss without music to listen to or incessant content from others’ lives to absorb. So, I just sat for a moment and allowed myself to be lost in this world I had been viewing incorrectly for so long. Then, I stood up, walked half a mile to the store, and bought a five-dollar spiral notebook.
Going from writing once a month (at best) to writing every day, sometimes multiple times a day in a cheap journal with a Bic pen has been the most freeing thing I have done in a long time. When you live in the perception of others, it is easy to forget that you are an individual who deserves to have your own thoughts, worries, and voice. Lucky for me, I have always had people to talk to and spaces to write in, but most of the time, they never felt wholly mine. No matter how many hours I spent studying or how many times I reached out to new friends, there was always someone doing more, someone succeeding where I was failing.
In the real world, there is plenty of space for everyone. It is not a race to see who can get an internship, or an A on their next exam, or a bigger friend group. Instead, it is about doing the best you can to create a life you are happy with. It is working hard for a life you want, not for one that is better than somebody else’s. You have to struggle with disappointment and rejection to learn that you will get up tomorrow and continue working towards something or someone more worthy of your efforts. I will not win every election, or get an A on every exam, or say the right things every time, but I will take my time and do my best to figure out where I belong in both this stepping stone to the real world, and one day the actual thing.
I am at a point in my life where everything is about trust. I hate putting trust into the idea that everything will work out. I want to be sure that I won’t fail, but I guess now is exactly the time to do that. It is my one chance to mess up a little and still know that everything will be ok. The real world may not be so forgiving. Now is the time to build the strength and character I will one day need to succeed, whether that be through my mentors, classes, or even just the silent words I write to myself.
For now, I will find comfort in the fact that I did not know some of my closest friends a few months ago. A week ago, I had a solid career plan which turned out to be not so solid. Yesterday, I heard from an old high school teacher asking me to give some advice to graduating seniors. If it isn’t already obvious, I am still seeking advice myself. But, I can say this: No matter what anyone tells you about taking the next step into adulthood… you still have some space to be a kid and learn. You deserve to be in these saturated spaces just as much as anyone else. You do not need to earn the right to reach out for help. One day, you will be more sure about yourself even if you still don’t have it all figured out. Things will be okay. Stand with your back straight and chin up. Welcome to the real world.
Happy Living
“‘Finding yourself’ is actually returning to yourself. An unlearning, an excavation, a remembering who you were before the world got its hands on you” -Emily McDowell
chocolate and politics 
Nicely written 👏🏽👏🏽
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