04/14/25

22 years ago, I was supposed to be born. I was a week late to my due date. My birth. I was late to class today. It’s become a habit of mine. A habit I’m ashamed of. Maybe I’m destined to be a procrastinator. Maybe I was destined from the start. Or maybe I’m just stubborn. Stubborn enough to make up my mind and spiral when it doesn’t go my way. But isn’t having an idealized picture of how I want my life to be a form of manifestation? Haven’t I manifested the life I’m living right now? I knew I was an artist very early on. And now, in less than a month, I will have earned a BFA. I have worked ruthlessly my entire life to get to where I am right now. I always had a vague picture in my head of what I was working towards. I’m working towards being successful, self sufficient, and happy. I’ve reminded myself countless times that this will pay off. That all of my work will pay off. How it will pay off is unclear. But I know it will. I have to believe that. There is no other choice. I have no other choice than to believe in myself, to believe in my great potential. Spring is here and I can breathe again. I can hope for warmer, kinder days. I have to. There is no other choice, no other option. And thankfully, I can never be late to Spring.

So mote it be.