In my early years I would participate in a myriad of different academic challenges and accelerations much to my dislike and discomfort, but I think becoming uncomfortable is the only true way to understand something. Yet, I hadn’t figured out what I needed to understand. Many times when I had my head down in a text book I would much rather be in a fantasy land pertaining to the newest show that I had watched that evening prior. Although cumbersome I found outlets through activities such as the arts and reading.
I remember how much I used to read as a kid. Reading tales of far away lands today sound about as much as fiction as the stories themselves. Later my grandmother actually showed me the world wide web, and the lustrous world of video games. Her and I would often indulge ourselves in a point and click mysteries. A childhood saturated with adventure often found through a story or a click, I think that is what I learned to understand, or so I thought. I would be vicariously living through my imagination of an intra-perspective. We all can agree when we recall stories from the past because they made us feel a certain way. Sometimes painful, other times happy. In my late teens, and twenties all I remember to ever discuss in the pain.
The overbearing guilt and responsibility of growing up in a traditional society where one is supposed to graduate from an institution, get a salary job, and have a family is just cliche. I think what I came to understand is how lonely I am for following a path that I never really decided fully for myself. After I graduated was that the flow of juxtaposition from a self that was seen by others, and a self that was made from that. I believe it is time to reclaim the future, my dreams, my ambition. What it means to be the architect of my own creation, and not destruction. I cannot meet your expectations, and therefore I do not require you to meet my own.