I breathe in life, and exhale experiences. I shed a tear to taste pain. I lose all my senses, when I feel these chemicals rushing through my veins like Novocaine.
Some days I dream of building a time machine, as I cling
onto this urge to hit rewind on moments in life, and I’m searching for nirvana—this fix, this release of dopamine.
Because there’s no feeling more euphoric than reminiscing upon the past, wishing you could get the best parts of it back.
No greater high than to be alive. No better remedy than creating memories.
Feels like the good old days are slipping away but that’s fine because in time—
I can look back and say I had never wanted to get so numb on life, that when it passed me by— I’d forgotten to remember the beauty of yesterday.
It’s always been a dream of mine to write a book. I’ve been told numerous times “You have such a unique story to tell! You should write a book!” and for a while that was hard for me to grasp because, to me, I’ve always just felt like your average girl, that just so happens to have been born with a disability. I always seem to revert back to this idea of, who cares what I have to say? So though I had this dream within me, I never thought I had anything interesting enough to say.
But the more I shared my writings on social media and received supportive feedback, the more I fell in love with it and gained confidence in my creative skills. Though it wasn’t actually until I confided in my best friend about this hesitancy I’d felt and she told me “I think all creatives have this when they’re on the brink of something good, it just means you care!,” that I truly felt like maybe she was right, that maybe I just needed to go for it.
Many years into my writing career, I was starting to feel discouraged because I wasn’t receiving the opportunities that I once believed would come easily, so I came to this realization that if I wanted to accomplish this dream of mine, I’d have to take matters into my own hands. And so, at the beginning of this year I set intentions for myself that by summertime I would self-publish a book. It was more than a goal, but a promise I intended to keep to myself. Finally on July 10th, I did just that, and published my debut poetry book.
Not even a power outage could take away my joy in sharing my debut book with the world!
This book is a mix of raw honest narratives from my perspective, not only as a young woman trying to navigate life but as a proud person with a disability, as well as some fictional creative writing pieces. Because I find inspiration everywhere—in the falling autumn leaves, under the warmth of the scorching summer sun, in every melody of music I listen to—and everything I create, even fictional, is a piece of my soul that I am giving away.
This book is about getting to know myself and finding my true calling through the artistic outlet of written expression. It’s about navigating the chaos of life in your teenage years and your early twenties, about womanhood, and overcoming adversity. It’s about the great value I place on all the relationships I’m lucky enough to have in my life—the only type of relationships I’ve ever known up to this point in my life—my loving family and my cherished friendships. It’s about being human, one who has both good and bad days, and about self-love.
This book is for those that look like me, who can relate to my life experiences as a person with a disability. It’s for those that share with me an appreciation for literature, who like to get lost in storytelling and live vicariously through dream worlds with fictional characters. It is for all my fellow chronically single hopeless romantics and for the empaths, those who see the beauty in the natural world—in life and in every human connection on this planet.
This is by far the scariest, most vulnerable thing I’ve ever done in my life, but I’m ecstatic to share my first project of hopefully many more to come in the future. So, I guess all there’s left to say is: If I bare my soul, will you listen?