I am finally beginning to find comfort.
Comfort in going unnoticed, in preventing people from taking advantage of me. Comfort in who I am as a person. I am finally beginning to obtain this sense of security I’ve created. But now it’s time to bid adieu to these things I’ve become so dedicated to.
I stepped into this class, this position, without knowing what I intended to do with whatever purpose I served. Feeling adrift, lost in a sea of astute minds and lofty expectations, it seemed as if I’d always be inferior to those whose hands incessantly typed away around me. But those sentiments were short-lived.
Soon, somewhere between the fire and the flame of ceaseless impending deadlines, the certainty that someone will critique my words, and the constant barrage of nonfunctional ideas, I began to enjoy myself. Mildly, at first, but enjoyment nonetheless. I had never been set in a place with so many others who think just like me. It was refreshing. Refreshing to be given a space where every person chooses to be. Nobody walked into this class feeling coerced into the idea of finally being able to speak their mind. Everybody wants to be here. After overcoming the daunting first weeks, I realized that I did, too.
In fact, it was the first time I felt connected to people of a similar age range.
Throughout the last two years, it’s more than my writing ability that has improved. Yes, I’ve been invited into a group of gifted individuals to share the things I’ve never spoken aloud before. But that practice, those 80 stories I have committed to paper—including this final one—isn’t what has made this experience significant; it’s the simple fact that, each day, I walk through the doors of the classroom, surround myself with unwavering support, and indulge in the vast array of pieces my peers have written. Not only can I connect with most things I read for this newspaper, but they are put into words better than I could ever dream of writing them myself.
But recently, that desire to measure up to the writing capabilities proven by those around me has diminished. I have long forgotten about the craving to express the emotions I have no other way of expressing. Feeling fulfilled with my perseverance through recent events, I’m ready to go. I’m ready to leave behind whatever adversity my time here has hurled my way.
It’s finally not important to me whether or not the ideas I pull from the cobwebbed corners of my mind are up to par with the many flawless articles published every single day. Maybe I’ll never have that need to articulate the things I feel in a hopelessly sound way, and that’s okay. At least I’ll never forget that I was given the chance in the first place.
