Continuation of "no backspacing allowed".
At one of my graduation ceremonies, we were each given a chance to speak about what we will be doing after leaving UCLA. Oh. my. god. Why did I come. Can I slink out the back without being seen? Waves of fear came over me. A million pounding feet in my heart trying in vain to run away from this tsunami nightmare. I drowned myself in fatally negative thoughts about myself as everyone else talked about starting law school, starting med school, starting their own company, traveling the world. "You've accomplished nothing"- one stab. "You've failed the Bruin legacy"- two stabs. "You have failed yourself"- three stabs. By the time it was my turn, I had already buried myself under the perfectly watered lawn of the Sunken Gardens and let someone else take over my body. The person who walked up to the podium was insecure. She measured her own worth by sizing up others. She overcompensated for what she thought she lacked. Half-way through talking myself up, I felt like vomiting.
This was the actual moment in which I failed myself. Disgusted with the words coming out of my mouth, I took control of myself again. It wasn't a theatrical moment of a single ray of light peaking through gray clouds to remind myself of who I really was. No, it was hot as hell, the sun was beating down on me, and my hair was getting nappy. And no, I didn't suddenly come to a realization that, why yes, I have grown immensely as a person as an undergrad and have succeeded in many ways I just wasn't aware of. That may still be a work in progress. But by the grace of the cartoonist in the sky, the person I drowned, stabbed, and buried within the span of 15 minutes was able to at least come up for one more, life-saving breath. One breath that was just enough for me to speak the only words I confided in and felt were true to myself. They were the last five words I spoke into that microphone.
"I will never stop creating."
