Shoot for the moon, they say.

Suit up, chart your course, prepare for take-off—it’s ok to fail, but it’s not.

At least you’ll be among the stars if you fail, they say. But, after seeing the moon, I could never be happy with just the stars. 

I’ve never done anything halfway.

I’ve spent twelve years calculating my route and charting possible landing zones, and now that I’ve finally picked one, I’m running out of rocket fuel—put-put-puttering my way through this solar system. 

This grey, dull ship that’s the same color as my bedroom walls has gotten boring; I’m sick of simply orbiting around this singular planet, ready to leave the effects of gravity behind as I accustom myself to the new climate.

I’ve already had a taste of what’s at my fingertips, listened to my feet as they walk across the paths of those before me: the tiles of the school next year that echo with the sound of my Converses.

I know what it’s like to float, to live without gravity’s effects, to, for once in my life, be weightless; yet, it’s not quite time to rip my space suit off.

It’s not quite time for me to be independent, to chase the dreams I’ve been clinging to for months, being told to hold off just a little bit longer, but there are seven days standing between me and those dreams—seven days and eight and a half hours.

But, I can’t seem to wait any longer. I can feel myself suffocating in this helmet, desperate to touchdown on the grey, barren surface, to create something of my own imagination, to receive my diploma, to walk across that stage and not look back.

I’ve spent my whole life tied to my small corner of this earth, learning every detail, exploring every cranny, but I’m desperate for more, for new caters to explore, a planet of my own design.

While the stars are beautiful, they’re not what I’m looking for; I’m restless thinking about the possibilities that await me and can’t help giddily awaiting August 22nd—the day I finally land.

I’ve had my fun among the stars, spent almost 18 years watching the moon from the safety of this ship, but I want more.

I’m ecstatic for my mom to see my new home for the first time this summer, and I’m gonna write a book and I’ve been setting healthy boundaries for myself; I won’t lose myself amongst the stars.

I just won’t.

I’ve been aiming for the same moon for years, preparing for this moment since I learned that this moment existed; I’m going to give up, I’m not there yet.

I’m shooting for the moon, and I’m going to make it there.