The End?

One late June night, I once again found myself texting him. I forgot what sparked the conversation, but I did know the two of us were drinking as we went about our conversation. He had gone out with his colleagues for some drinks, and I was at home drinking alongside my roommates. After making a drunken fool out of myself via text, I finally asked him the big question: “Do you still think about that night?” And his response was surprising to say the least: “Every night. Without fail.” The rest of the conversation went about as well as one would expect out of two drunk individuals being horny over text. There was genuinely nothing romantic about this second encounter; this was much rawer and more primal than your run-of-the-mill romance. There was little regard for what was to come after this. At that moment, we were simply enjoying each other’s company for the wrong reasons, and those wrong reasons led up to the phone sex. It’s difficult for me to describe this particular encounter in detail because it happened fast, and it was so straight-to-the-point. Regardless, this man was clearly feeling brave when he decided to call me because my eyes were soon met with his member in hand and apparently over the toilet. I was already undressed by the time I answered, and I had adjusted the camera to where he could see my figure. I didn’t do much to keep his attention; just the fact that I was naked while pleasuring myself was enough to keep him satisfied. I relished in his lustful comments, but honestly, it really wasn’t that fun for me. It wasn’t nearly as sensual as our first encounter when he was tasting my skin and touching me in all the right places. This was merely for his enjoyment, and frankly, it lasted longer than I expected considering that the man had been edging himself throughout the two-hour conversation over text. In short, it was a whirlwind of a night, but when he finished pleasuring himself, I asked him to show me his face. Surprisingly, he obliged, and I can recall being hit with adoration for the man. Those warm brown eyes were looking back at me, and I just melted at the sight of him. That primal instinct to mate had been replaced with a tenderness I hadn’t felt since our first encounter. I’m sure he would’ve pulled me in for a deep kiss had we met up in person. I could feel it through the way he was admiring my profile. Eventually, we said our good nights and ended the call. Despite that sweet moment we shared, I mentioned before that this was the beginning of the end. And this sweetness would eventually sour soon enough.

The end came without warning, yet part of me still wishes it slowly fizzled out. It felt unwarranted, and it left me distraught for days. At first, I thought he was just busy. After all, he’s in his last year of medical residency, and I had heard through the grapevine that he was put in a rather prominent position. Surely this change came with a completely new set of responsibilities that would take up his time. But then the messages stopped sending altogether. I wasn’t even being left on “delivered” by this point, so my only conclusion was that he finally had enough and blocked my number once and for all. And that was what I thought for nearly nine months. At one point or another, I thought he had reached out. It was really tempting to ask who it was, but my roommate had suggested it was mostly the opening to a scam text. With that, I never replied to that random number, but I had always held onto hope. Even when I thought I had forgotten about everything, something would always come up for me to be reminded of him. Most of it was rumors that were relayed to me whether or not I actually wanted to hear it, but from time to time, I would always have very vivid dreams about him. But something’s changed almost overnight, and now I’m starting to think that this story isn’t over. Maybe it’s just old feelings surfacing up, yet I can’t help but feel like he’s closer to approaching me now more than ever. The way those same eyes that I’ve come to adore gazed into me when we finally spoke for the first time in months was enough to leave me trembling in my seat. I was captivated by that gentle voice speaking to me in a near whisper. I admired his presence as I was chastising him for his past actions. I knew better than to let him think he got away with anything he’s tried to pull on me. But I wasn’t bitter or spiteful in my words. I spoke gently to this man but firmly enough to get the point across. I can only imagine what was going through his head during that moment. We agreed to meet up later into the night to discuss more, but that never came about. I left work without ever seeing him again. Admittedly, I was genuinely hurt by him never appearing, but I had to be strong for myself. I couldn’t just break down over one brief conversation when I’ve already gone months without his touch or his scent. Surely, I had some amount of resilience or even pride buried somewhere inside my mind. I thought where he and I left off back in June would’ve been it frankly. This recent development has me on the edge of my seat. I really didn’t expect that out of this connection we shared. I was convinced that everything had been said and done, so I treated it as such. Now it seems there’s new information on the table, and there may be a development later down the line. Of course, that’s if he’ll be willing to pursue it this time around. Even if I wanted to, I can’t communicate with him. It’s not because I don’t want to reach out; it’s more so because I can’t reach out. I don’t have his number saved on my phone anymore, and after months of ignoring him in front of his colleagues, I almost don’t know what to do because I’ve already embarrassed the man enough just as it is. That and my friends are rightfully against me getting back in touch with him. My hands are tied frankly, so perhaps that’s that.

Inner Conflict

To say I was floored by his confession is an understatement. I was trying so hard to be understanding of his situation, but the fact of the matter was that I was the other woman. And this man couldn’t have stopped himself before it got to this point? But initially, I didn’t feel anger like I should have. Instead, I felt pity for the man before me. He gave into temptation and stopped himself before it could get any farther. His confession would be considered commendable, right? Even a well-meaning and righteous man can be fallible.

I felt a pang of sadness in my stomach followed by envy blooming in my chest. This man was never mine to begin with, and I let myself get carried away with his advances. I was still in his arms as he tried to reason with me that this wasn’t fair to himself nor was it fair to me. But all that was running through my head was: “if this isn’t fair for either of us, then why not be the bigger person and put a stop to it before it got to this point?” At the time, I was only 23 but this boy of a man was 30 years old! It boggles my mind how he tried to be the voice of reason when he should’ve been the one to shut it down before it escalated. If anything, I wouldn’t have been sitting on his lap having that discussion with him had he been smart. And for a doctor, that was mighty foolish of him to make such a dumb decision.

I should’ve been angry with him. I should’ve been scornful toward him. But I wasn’t, and being blinded by what I thought was admiration, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the man. He made a genuine mistake, right? This could all be forgiven, can it not? I didn’t know what to feel by the time I got out of his car. He kept trying to comfort me, but I was just numb to it all. At that point, I had never been more disappointed. I was left to pick up the pieces from this situation on my own. I knew it wasn’t my fault. I went into this believing him to be single and available, and the thought that this man was about to cheat on his girlfriend never crossed my mind up until those last few moments.

A few days had passed since that incident, and at one point, I drunkenly sent him another risqué photo. Of course, I was promptly blocked immediately after that, and yet he never once distanced him from me. In public, he always tried to be friendly, and when we first saw each other in person after that initial encounter, I remember apologizing to him only to be met with: “you did nothing wrong, and I want you to know that.” It was something along those lines, but “you did nothing wrong” always stuck out for me. At least he wasn’t blaming me for what had happened that night because knowing my temper, it would’ve gotten messy.

At that point, I felt the need to distance myself from him and look for love elsewhere. And I did do just that, but funny enough, it only lasted less than three months. During that time however, there was some flirting from him, but I was careful not to pay any mind to his words. My mind was dead-set on leaving that behind me, but he always had a way to come right back. He seemed keen on keeping me within reach, and I couldn’t allow that to be the case.

In May, it felt like something in the air had changed the moment I finally dropped the little situationship I had started to forget about what happened in January. At first, I was hopeful of what might come my way after this failed attempt, but then I ran into him yet again. A friend of mine and I had gone to get coffee that afternoon, and right by the counter was that damn man. I wanted to turn around, yet with the crowd, it was easier said than done. To save face, I went ahead to the counter as if nothing fazed me, but the moment he looked at me, his face just lit up with the same kind eyes I loved in the past fixed on my figure. It was clear to others around us that he only had eyes for me at that moment, and he was eager to please. My friend and I never paid for our coffee that day to say the least. And if this gesture was an attempt to get me to reach back out to him, it worked unfortunately. I can’t exactly recall what was said later that afternoon, but I do remember that our “encounter” was never brought up. Yet it was almost like we picked up where we left off.

We never texted regularly that last part of spring, and I’m pretty sure we went a month without saying a word to each other. But at the time, I never thought much of it. I heard about a few of his accomplishments during that same time, but I never had the chance to ask him about it directly. It was hard just to get a “hello” out of him, but I clung onto the hope that he and I would finally finish what we had started. That should’ve been my warning sign, and regretfully, it wouldn’t be the last.

At one point, I did come to my senses and deleted his number from my phone only to get his number back through someone else. Was it the right decision? Absolutely fucking not, but I got desperate once again. I was back and forth with this problematic man, and he definitely wasn’t worth all the trouble. But back then, I was completely convinced there was something about us that just made sense. In reality, there was nothing besides mindless sex. But my head wasn’t in reality at the time. It was very much stuck in the clouds then, but from this point onward, I’ll soon come down to earth. But before I get to that part, there’s one more encounter that sparked the beginning of the end.

The Night to be Remembered

Our conversations became more and more sporadic as the month of January came about. I don’t recall it being too busy in the hospital, but I vaguely remember him frequenting the ICUs and the emergency department every other day. He was always surrounded by his colleagues, so we hardly had the chance to chat in-person. The only times we had much of a conversation, it was almost always via text. He did say in the beginning that he had a partner, so maybe it was for the best. The man was busy forwarding his career and tending to his own life. I didn’t matter much to this man, but I couldn’t get that through my thick head. I was merely a stranger passing by, yet I had the audacity to believe I deserved more of his time and attention. I was desperately clinging on to the hope that some part of him felt the same way.

Eventually I would get the reality check I deserved, but that wouldn’t happen until the end of January. It was Friday afternoon, and I had stumbled upon him in the halls while I was in the middle of training a newcomer. He also happened to be in the middle of showing someone around the hospital, but I barely remember what that was about. I just know that I ended up texting him later that night asking about it. It was then that he admitted he couldn’t understand what I had meant earlier that afternoon, but I do recall that we chatted about how our respective days went. He was in the middle of an outing, but I never asked who he was with. I just knew the man was out drinking. I think I might’ve been drinking as well, but I wasn’t out and about – I was just at home enjoying a night in.

I can’t seem to recall who started the flirting that night. I just know that it was on and off for the past month, but that night, a switch had definitely flipped with this man. Maybe it was the alcohol making him feel a little brave yet again or maybe it was simply a lapse of judgment. Regardless of what was going on with his end, I had the man’s full attention. Naturally, I gave him what he wanted: just some risqué photos here and there. I made sure not to send anything too revealing so as to not ruin the surprise. I know there’s a risk with doing that sort of thing, but I had no regard for it. I was too focused on the man lusting over me to even care about the consequences. I was too worried about whether or not he’d fuck me the way I had been imagining all month at that point. Those texts were getting hot and heavy, and it wasn’t until he demanded my address that I knew he reached his boiling point. His partner must not have been in the picture anymore because this man was seemingly all in, and at the moment, I couldn't have had it any other way. I was reveling in the idea that I had won this man over. Even if it was just for one night, I just had to have a taste. I think at that point, I had gone months without feeling the touch of another man so it’s no surprise that I was desperate to have him.

I waited in anticipation outside for maybe 15 minutes. It was already 4 in the morning, and it was chilly to say the least. I was in a long-sleeve T-shirt and leggings, but I knew wearing extra layers wouldn’t have been a good idea for what was to come. I needed to be able to shed off what I had on, so the less I had, the faster we could get on with our night together. I just knew that the moment I saw his car around the corner, the rest of the night would’ve been nothing but steamy sex in the backseat. When he was by the driveway, I walked up to the driver’s side. The window rolled down, and I leaned in for a kiss. But this man took it a step further and pulled me in for the most demanding and sensual kiss I had in so long at that point. His tongue dug through my lips and into my mouth, searching for my own tongue. We finally pulled away, and I hopped in the backseat – guiding him to where I had parked for as much privacy as one could get in this situation. The lights came on for a brief moment, and it was then that I saw the condoms already in place at the console. The time had come, and this man was more than ready to claim me as his own for the night. I could tell from the taste of his lips that he decided to freshen up before coming by. I never knew mint could be so intoxicating until our lips met for that first time. My body was ready for the foreplay, and I was more than ready for what he had in those dress pants.

Before I knew it, he had climbed into the backseat and on top of me. My dreams were finally coming true, and the man before me was more than ready to devour me. Lucky for him, I already knew the drill and had my legs wrapped around his waist as our lips met once again. He saw his opportunity to grind into my sweet spot, and it felt damn near divine. I couldn’t help but moan into his ear – in his mother tongue, no less. I could tell it was driving him up the wall, yet he knew he had to be in control. My legs were soon on this man’s shoulders, and he buried his face into my more sensitive area. I couldn’t tell if he was trying to memorize the scent of my sex or if he was teasing me by licking at my sweet spot while it was covered, but either way, my hands were running through his hair, and I was moaning nonstop. I felt his lips kissing my clothed pussy, and I started to rock my hips. I think I tried to reach for the hem of my leggings to pull them down for him, but he stopped me before I could. He had his face buried for a while, so I’m certain he was relishing in my moaning and squirming while he had me by the hips. Eventually, he came up once again to kiss me before pulling my shirt up to suckle on my nipples. His tongue flicked and lapped upon my breast, and with his hand, he replicated the same motion on the other. I was in ecstasy from his touch. My mind had gone blank, and I felt my sex swelling and soaking through my leggings. My body was more than ready by that point, but I wanted more of his touch. Once he latched off my tit, I got on his lap and pulled him in for another deep kiss. He gave me a good slap on my right buttock, and I moaned into his lips – begging for more. And he delivered by giving me one more. The car was cold but steamy from our activities and our panting. I thought he was finally ready to move on to the next step, but I was soon proven wrong as he froze and confessed: despite everything that had just happened, it was all a big mistake on his part.

The Unexpected Start (cont.)

After I had given him that note, we finally started talking. It was the end of that first discussion when he explained that he was already seeing someone, but he still wanted to be on friendly terms. I was rightfully disappointed but understanding of the circumstances because it wasn’t like I was on board for anything serious. And aside from that, I had already accomplished getting in contact with him to establish a connection, so with that logic, I already got what I wanted. I was content with that reality, and I relished our conversations. Unfortunately, they were few and far between because of his busy schedule but naturally, I wanted to make the most out of this new friendship I carved out. I was a bit upset that it wouldn’t have blossomed into a romantic relationship like I wanted, but I had figured that this was most likely for the best. The last few months before that December were very rough on me, so I knew getting into a serious relationship wouldn’t have been in my best interest. A friendship was better than nothing, right? That’s definitely the impression I got the night he waited for me after work just to walk me to my car. It almost felt like he pitied me.

I think it was about a couple days into us getting to know each other that things started to shift between us. He had traveled to Amsterdam that same Christmas and texted me when he was at a bar nearby his hotel. I vividly remember the photo I got from him being at this bar. The lighting was warm and welcoming, and it seemed like everything was shining. It was almost like he posed for it because his demeanor was very cool and collected as he held onto his pint of beer. I could just tell that this man was trying to impress me, and frankly it worked. I can recall gushing over it and being jealous of the fact that he was able to travel at that point in time. I was at work when I got that message, so that sense of envy was nearly tenfold. I’m not at all fond of beer, but I knew I would’ve loved nothing more than to drink alongside this man and perhaps share a story or two. But the lines started to blur as the conversation continued. At some point, I mentioned I was a creature of indulgence and that I would prefer doing as I please. I couldn’t tell if it was the beer or him genuinely being cheeky, but this man’s question following my statement was along the lines of: “And what is it that pleases you?” I had to remind him that I was at work since I didn’t want to delve into such a suggestive question and much less with someone who should be considered a friend. But frankly, I don’t recall much from the rest of the conversation. I just know his phone had been pickpocketed from him at one point during the night, and he had to wrestle the man for his phone. I didn’t hear about that until hours into the night, and at that point, I think I was concerned over the possibility of me boring him. I did have a moment of panic once he brought up the fact that his phone had been taken from him, and I was genuinely concerned for his well-being. The man was overseas when this happened to him, so I couldn’t possibly imagine how he must’ve felt at that moment. I think he did mention that it didn’t faze him nearly as much as it should have because of how drunk he was at that moment, but it’s been well over a year since that conversation. Some details are lost to time unfortunately for this telling.

I remember thinking to myself that this man genuinely didn’t have to tell me he was out and about that Christmas. He could’ve easily kept it to himself and continued on with our conversations as if he was still in the States. I keep asking myself: “Why did he feel the need to let me in on his life if he made it clear that I wasn’t a priority?” Maybe he’s not the type to keep secrets, or perhaps he subconsciously wanted to impress me. I know there’s no sense in dissecting past events and especially since he and I aren’t exactly on good terms, but I can’t help but get worked up over it. My head is filled with whys every now and again. It’s damn near annoying now, but when things were still fresh, it left a sense of allure rather than annoyance. I knew I wanted more, but I knew I couldn’t have more the way I really wanted it. He wasn’t mine for the taking, and I needed to respect that. But I didn’t respect it when I should have. I took what I could get, but it was never enough. I desired that man, and I had little regard for whatever consequences came my way. I just had to have him, and that would be my downfall.

There’s nothing about this that I can be proud of frankly. Obviously, I was in the wrong, but admittedly, I was desperate for the man. The age difference didn’t matter nor did the fact that the man is a doctor when I was a server at that time. I had it bad for him, and nearly every night, I was fantasizing about him fucking me in ways that would be considered disrespectful to women as a whole. There’s genuinely no other way to sugarcoat this statement. I wanted this man to consume me, body and soul. I wanted his tongue to taste my lips. I wanted to be revered for the goddess I believed I was back then. It was damn near selfish of me to lust over the man, but that lust was unquenchable. For some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to focus on anyone else. I specifically wanted him to be the one worshiping me. It’s sinful that I desired him in this way at night, but I believed my intentions during the day were pure enough to pass off as a friendship. Unfortunately, it only blurred the lines more and more as the days turned into weeks.

The Unexpected Start

I started working at the local hospital as a server because I was in need of a job. The pandemic was already very rough on me, and moving out from my parents’ house didn’t make it any easier. At that point, I was living at a friend’s family home. While they treated me like they would a cousin, the fact of the matter is that I was essentially on my own while taking care of my five beloved pets. I used to work at a McDonald’s nearby, but after one particularly rough night, I quit outright without a proper notice. I was out of a job for about three weeks before starting off at the hospital. I had a bit of a wild streak going on at that time, and my photo badge was proof of it. My hair was a platinum blonde with an undercut, and I was used to wearing chokers to work every day. Working at the hospital was my first time working alongside seasoned adults. What made it intimidating was the fact that I started when the town was at a state of emergency with all the hospitalizations from COVID-19. Working in a healthcare setting was definitely not an expectation of mine. I had always believed I’d stay in college, become a high school teacher, and start teaching by the time my own sister started high school herself. The pandemic changed that plan drastically. I’ve been told I was dealt a bad hand, but maybe it was the start of what I was actually meant to do. And I say maybe because I still don’t know what that ‘something’ is. Even after meeting a pair of kind eyes, I was disillusioned by the course of my own life at that point. Nothing went according to plan, and of all the places I expected to end up in, the local hospital wasn’t it – during a pandemic, no less. I knew nothing about medical residency at the time, so I genuinely figured he was just one of many medical students out and about. I ran into him a fair amount starting off, and honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if he caught me staring every now and again. I couldn’t help but be smitten by that pair of welcoming eyes. Before I knew it, I had a little crush but back then, I figured it’d be a crush and nothing more. And I was fine with that. My mental health and love life were dumpster fires then, so I wasn’t at all preoccupied by it. It wasn’t until the dust had settled that I started focusing more on the resident physician I’d run into and chat with once in a while. And of course, that wouldn't be until after my first year of working in the hospital. By then, that little crush had subsided. I was so caught up with life that I had almost forgotten about it until I decided to give the man my number. It wasn’t like I had anything to lose at that point, so I figured I might as well go for it and see what happens. But I do remember stressing out about it the first couple of days because I had convinced myself I put down my number wrong on his phone. After a bit, I wrote a little note and handed it to him when I finally ran into him during his downtime.

Sometimes I wonder if he ever thinks about those first few days of us talking. I know I’ll catch myself reminiscing from time to time. I had high hopes like I do for every man I’ve been romantically involved with, and high hopes are usually followed by huge letdowns. But I wasn’t worried about that just yet. I didn’t want to think negatively because I wanted things to go the way I would’ve preferred. Looking back though, I know I was always idealistic when it came to love. I say that in the past tense, but that’s still very much the case now as it was back then. I’m always hopeful and optimistic until reality sets in, and all of a sudden, that warm and fuzzy feeling is replaced with sarcasm and doubt. The cynicism one feels after the end of a relationship is damn near unmatched – not in a good way obviously. I don’t want to say that I feel lost without him, but I still feel this sense of melancholy in my chest when I think about the beginning. I’m genuinely not sure if I regret what happened later on down the line or if it’s a general state of sadness. But either way, it’s not a pleasant feeling and especially when you can physically feel it. The sensation is bearable now, but before, it was beyond overwhelming. If it wasn’t for my many pets, I don’t think I would’ve gotten out of bed in the mornings.

An Open Letter to the Man Who Will Never Read It

I’m not sure what I’m trying to accomplish by writing this. And I have that sinking feeling that I still won’t know after everything has been said and done. Maybe this won’t accomplish anything, and it’ll turn my own life upside down. Regardless of the outcome, I know it really doesn’t matter at this point because my life has clearly gone down a road where we might not meet again. As of writing this, this is a truth I still need to come to terms with whether I like it or not. I can’t say that I haven’t had my eye on you. Granted, I had eyes almost everywhere, so people were keeping tabs on you whether I wanted it or not. And of course, I didn’t want that to be the case as time went on. I genuinely want to forget about everything that’s happened, but obviously I can’t because the purpose of this memoir is solely on our story during that point of our lives. I can safely say why I’m writing this, but I’ll probably never be able to answer the “what am I trying to accomplish with this?” because nothing really matters in the end. It happened, we can’t change how it turned out, and now we’re just living with the consequences of our actions. I’m sure you’re living your best life wherever you are, but as I write this, I’m just now starting to dig my way up from the hole I dug myself into. I’ve only recently started “living” my life, and that’s all because I decided to change jobs. Now, I have all this time to myself but with no clue on what to do about it. I have a few ideas on what to do, but so far, I’m at the “humble beginnings” stage of this new life I’ve carved for myself. It’s not so bad thankfully, but I know I could be doing better with myself. It’ll take some time, but I’m confident that I can navigate through this. I know I’m not alone in this life, and I’m fortunate for that. But this is one of those instances where I have to traverse alone because frankly, the ones that initially knew about our story have a genuine disdain for you. And rightfully so since your ass still owes me an apology. I’m still living life without it though so it’s not like I desperately need it to live. I’m not stating all this solely for the possibility that you’ll eventually find this and read it for yourself. This has been something I’ve been meaning to get off my chest and process it, and this just so happens to be the medium I decided upon to finally process this part of my life. Art has been ruined for me, and I can’t seem to pick it back up like I once did in high school. But writing seems to be my only safe haven that’s been untouched by expectations from an overbearing father. And if writing is eventually ruined for me, I know I’ll find another mode of expressing how I feel. It’s just time-consuming since I’d have to go through the trouble of seeing what works, cutting out what doesn’t work, and so on.

I guess this is just the long version of “this is my truth, whether everyone likes it or not.”

It’s been a while.

I’ve always had my account logged in, but I’ve never touched it. So much has happened since the last time I posted some “original content.” But there’s one particular experience I’ll most definitely be touching upon in the coming days. And of course by “experience,” I mean a person.

Here are my precious babies 🥺🥺

The truth hurts

Entry 3: Loss

Earlier this week, I had one of my cats pass away. I was so distraught by her death that I was unable to work on any of my assigments throughout the week. My free time was eaten up by the need to recuperate after that night. I’m honestly really anxious for the next few days. While I wish that never happened so I could’ve been able to focus, I have to make due with my current situation and cope with the loss while also making sure I finish the semester strong.

Entry 2: Last Assignments and A Resolve

As most college students, I’m not great when it comes to time management. Honestly, I started this semester with such high hopes but ended up not putting the amount of effort I needed to achieve such goals. But while my grades aren’t as good as I’d like them to be (as an honors student in my college, my minimum GPA has to be 3.5 or higher to stay. mine took a dip over the summer, and I went from a 3.43 to a 3.0), I think I can manage it for this semester. I’ve already accepted the fact that I may need to retake a course or two sooner, but I at least want to finish the semester on a good note and hope for the best. This week is going to be an intense one, but I hope to figure something out so I can accomplish this goal.

open and raw communication with your partner may be uncomfortable and feel so ugly and vulnerable but it solves soo many problems in the end

Entry 1: Birthday

I’ve had a rather hectic but otherwise mellow day today. I’m glad I have my pets to comfort me when I need it. These next few weeks are going to be rather busy for me, and I need all the support I can get. Maybe I can do something for myself once I’m finally caught up before the end of the semester.

he baby

Reblog the Princess ™ for future happiness and mental stability. Let her cuteness cleanse you.

Entry 0: Last Day of Adolescence

I felt the need to start anew because tomorrow, I’ll be two decades old. These past few years have been the hardest, but I know I have my entire life ahead of me. I’m nearing the end of fall semester with stacks of work left unfinished and overdue. I’m struggling but persevering because I don’t want to give up. I want to finish strong if I’m to achieve what I’ve been striving for since I started college. I want to become a better version of myself, a version that I’ll be proud of for years to come. I want to become ME and embrace my individuality for once. Self-acceptance is a process, and it’s never easy. But the one thing I don’t want to do is give up.

“Remember to look up at the stars and not down at your feet.”

— Stephen Hawking (1942 - 2018)