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To me, to my chapter 20!

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  Dear AIRA, I don't even know where or how to start, but perhaps wishing you a happy birthday is the most ideal, so happy birthday baby. I keep thinking back to how much you had planned, to how much should have happened by now. I keep thinking about the goals you had for turning 20 and a part of me feels defeated, a part of me feels like I failed, and that's the part of me that sunk into birthday anxiety two days ago. That's the part of me that wanted to go to bed on October 31st but wake up on November 2nd, because what's there to celebrate? But there's another part of me.  A part of me that's so incredibly proud of you.  A part of me that wants to give you the longest hug ever, and surround your room with flowers and balloons because I know you love it.  The part of me that wants to remind you of how much you've done even if you think it's nothing. So let's take the last few months into consideration; You started your book, you started a book club...
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This thing I call dream.

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 I'm not sure what's worse; living without actually finding something you'll feel empty without, or living without ever needing to feel any void. The simple explanation of that is: finding passion or just winging life, what's worse? When you consider the fact that not all passion eventually leads to results. I mean, I call my writing my 'passion project', when in reality, it could be my death sentence. My desire to express my thoughts in words runs deeper than my will to have or accept an alternative reality.  I could be quite stubborn about this thing called dreaming. This act of sitting in a corner, watching life pass me by, because in my head, it's not my time to live yet. It's not my time to join the crowd so I seat and watch the crowd. But the thing about dreaming is that I sometimes always have to have my eyes closed, not because of the dream, but rather, because the fear of seeing what actually stands before me is greater.  I'm afraid I'll...
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To the girl who almost became my friend.

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December 2016; I had just turned 16, an age I had envisioned differently. I had this whole 'sweet 16' picture in my head. This idea of a nicer life. By nicer, I wasn't necessarily thinking future plans or anything close, I just meant enough money to go out with my friends, people to actually call friends and a birthday party that comes with juicy teenage drama. So maybe 'cooler' was the word I should have used. 'I wanted a cooler life'. But that wasn't my life, Because I was nowhere near 'cool' at 16.  And then you came around. The first day you walked in, I immediately knew I wouldn't like you. Your presence demanded immediate attention the minute you sat in the chair across me and that irritated me. When the teacher asked for your name, everyone turned to you again and that irritated me even more. So when you asked for my name after class,p I just walked away. I walked away because I could, I walked away because I had nothing to say to you,...
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The Journey.

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It took a while, but I finally got there. I'm not sure how, but at least I know where. This little trip my mind has been on, is probably the most thrilling thing I've ever done. Because somehow, in this crazy mind I call mine, -in this life where I watch out for time; time that seems still at first but also seems like it flies. The questions that I hear, the answers that I give and the emotions I feel, heavily reflect on what I write. Earlier today I heard a voice. I'm not sure if it was familiar or not. I'm not sure if it was in my head or if it was my conscience. I'm not so sure. But earlier today I heard a voice,  and it asked me questions. I was on a path. A path leading to something I'd definitely never done before. A path leading to self destruction or absolute redemption, I'm not so sure where I stood. But I heard the voice. And it asked; "Do you know what you're doing?" I didn't hesitate to reply. "Of course not...
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