The optimist who didn’t know what it meant to struggle.

How many times have we gotten stuck in an activity where excuses created kept us from moving forward? While justifying why we couldn’t do it, we worked harder on reasons not to move forward rather than working harder on ways to continue.

As I sat with my parents tonight after hearing and watching multiple TED talks, we created a set of what was our foundation to our home and our growth as a family. We questioned our existence and our potential as humans. We asked what tools we are born with and which we develop through our lives.

  1. We decided that our natural instincts with which we are born with give us the will to live. By nature, we are all capable, and have the potential.
  2. We develop different topics in our lives that shape our personalities and our hobbies and the things we enjoy.
  3. Lastly, the drive and the motivation to move forward was in part by the foundation and belief that once more, we are capable, and with that optimism, we question “how do we do it?” rather than “can we do it?”.

We all are born with a set of tools, as René Brown states in her TED talk: Power of vulnerability. We are born with the ability to encounter and overcome challenges and struggles life brings our way. By nature, a new born has the strength in his/her tiny hands and arms to grasp and hold and pull him/herself, to turn, to move, and to survive, need be. A baby, when thrown in the air (do not do this without supervision) will become ready to hold onto an object or a person with the strength necessary, via child development courses. A child knows to cry for help, when hungry, and when in need of a diaper change.
When in need, we have the means and the ways to take action, we have the will necessary to move forward. How we strengthen those skills we are born with, is by means of developing, and in a sense working out those muscles.

Like our muscles, we must practice, and we must work out, those things we aren’t so great at, in order to improve. If I am not good at a language, I will make sure to practice, consistently, until, for example, English becomes easier, and so does ASL, and so does Hindi, and Telugu, and Portuguese, and the many languages in my bucket list. I can learn new recipes to bake, to cook. I can and am capable of learning new sports, and of working out my body to become fit. In which case, if we have the will because we are born with it, and we can we develop these capacities through our lives, where do we start to say how do we do it? versus can we do it?

My family’s foundation was shaped around optimism. We never questioned our boundaries or what we were capable of doing, rather that we always could, so we had to find ways to do it. I decided to find the latin roots and the synonyms to the schemas that shaped those who did it versus the ones who made excuses. I found out that being an extrovert and an introvert have nothing to do with leadership or motivation. In fact, introversion and shyness are not synonyms. Shyness is defined as the fear of social judgement. Fear, also found in the group of timidness, mistrust, doubt, and pessimism. Therefore, if one third to half our population is introverted, best believe they are not all pessimists. Some of our famous leaders and activists in fact were introverts. Ghandi, as an example, that while as an introvert and without desire to take risks, understood the necessity to take action and speak up, possibly softly, driven to do the right thing when found with no other choice.

Therefore, we go back to being optimistic, defined and clustered into hope, confidence, belief in once self and of the potential, having trust, and faith. Trust, with Latin roots to strength, and with that connecting it to the momentum and drive that willingness comes with, in our nature. Not to ask if we can do something, but how will we get it done.

I am a visual learner, and so I created an image, or a formula, if you’d like, of how willingness shapes our existence and how optimists knows no struggle, when we are only encountered with opportunities of growth.

will

The rectangular sections represent the topics in which we may or may not be good at throughout our lives, that be social skills, activities such as sports, or creative outlets like cooking or painting. The tube connecting will, in the oval middle section to our rectangular section of topics is the development. The development allows us to grow and improve in such topics. Sounds fairly simple. If, where there is a will there is a way, we all should be more than capable of accomplishing those challenges. Therefore, what’s the hold-up?

The interference between will and development is the opportunity and support or lack thereof. I found the Latin root to both Support and Opportunity, port meaning to carry. Therefore, do we carry through in order to improve those skills in those set of topics? Do we have the support and opportunities to make it easier for us to move forward? That means that someone else will give you the support to carry through, or they will give you the opportunities to carry things through to see success. In the other hand, you can also create those opportunities to succeed. Regardless, there is no excuse not to work out and develop those muscles.

What do we need in order to succeed? If will is rooted from Latin: wish, and wish is a hope that we have to see things through, all we need to do is be optimistic, where we don’t ask if we can do something, but rather, how will we get it done. Will is the hope that we can accomplish anything that comes our way, as long as we are alive. If optimism is clustered into hope, confidence, faith, and trust, and those are the strength to move forward, struggles and challenges do not exist, just opportunities of growth. Therefore, if we see the world and our lives as opportunities to grow, we can never stop learning and growing for as long as we believe we can, and we can. I am an optimist. I don’t know a struggle that cannot be overcome. Perception is key, and what a better way to see the world than with a smile, and say: bring it on.

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An opportunity to freedom.

I grew up in a household that uplifted and celebrated my dreams and aspirations. I was brought up in a house where my parents didn’t know the word cannot, or the idea of not having enough time. We had ideas, we made them into plans, and out of magic, became reality. As I grew older I came to realize the effort needed to succeed. It wasn’t fun then, making plans, and seeing them through, but because we didn’t know the term cannot, we never attempted to make the excuse that we couldn’t. It wasn’t until I was undocumented that my parents began to use this word.

I couldn’t apply for financial aid, I couldn’t get resources for low income families at my public school, I couldn’t apply for scholarships that everyone else was applying to, I couldn’t travel as much on field trips as the rest, and I couldn’t be myself. I pretended to be “White” because that meant I had papers. I pretended to be and like what the other white girls liked because that meant I was documented. I tried so hard to get rid of my accent, because I didn’t want to stand out and be questioned.

It has taken over ten years since my family and I moved to the U.S. to create a movement and a voice for our undocumented community. It has taken sacrifices and a lot of suffering in order to obtain the privileges we take for granted. I created an organization at Crafton Hills College that opened the doors to the topic of undocumented students in an environment ruled by white supremacists. In the opinion page of Yucaipa newspaper, I was criticized and the school as well for allowing such an abomination to happen; for giving me a voice. At CSUSB I was told by many I could not open a Dream Center, and we still made it happen. Dr. Gallegos gave us the opportunity to have a voice through her event raising over two thousand dollars for our undocumented students on campus. The event didn’t just create scholarships and monetary support, it gave us an outlet to continue speaking up about who we are as human beings. When everyone kept throwing us into the shadows, the opportunities we were given allowed us to remember and to remind others we deserve this and much more. Those opportunities we are given remind us of our value.

When I was in college, I took a discrimination class. The one thing I remember is a formula that was engraved in my mind, which is the following:

Motivation + Persistence + Effort + (opportunity) = success

In order to succeed, we must be persistent, we must put the effort necessary, we have to have the motivation to create the momentum, but we need those opportunities to allow us to raise above the challenges.

This week, and this year, I have seen more posts about discrimination, about executive orders against our people of color, and about #DACA than ever before. I am glad these topics have come to light and created awareness, but at what cost? In the past week I have seen more posts from our activists en la lucha saying their good byes to DACA than ever before. It’s real and it’s happening. To quote every single one of them, Jesus Iñiguez, Yosimar Reyes, Ericka Andiola, Caesar Vargas, Luis Serrano, and the many I follow for encouragement and motivation, DACA wasn’t the best thing that happened to us, but it sure gave us a hell of a breather. We were able to show our full potential while applying and partaking in jobs in our fields, we were able to obtain benefits we rightfully deserve. I mean, if I am already paying taxes, please let me at least go to the doctor.

We do want and continue to fight for our parents, family, and friends who are not protected under DACA to obtain a legal status. They’re the ones who have sacrificed everything so that we could get this crumbs that have kept us alive. We will smile past this challenge. We will prevail despite the struggles. We will succeed because there will always be someone who will give us the opportunity to express ourselves, and if the times comes, and others don’t, we will create those opportunities ourselves.

To those against us, and our struggle, let me remind you that if there is one thing I am proud of in our undocumented community, is that we are a group of strong, independent, loving, and caring fighters. We will fight and we will move forward no matter what is put in front of us. With or without DACA we will succeed. We will not back down, and you best believe we will not be thrown back into the shadows. I have said it before, and I will say it again, freedom had never tasted so great. That’s all we needed, the opportunity to realize we are that valuable, and it’s going to cost you every cent taking away what is rightfully ours, freedom isn’t something you give and take, it grows from within us.

 

Comfort, Fear, and Imprisonment.

How many opportunities have we missed out on due to fear? That in the idea of keeping safe and in comfort we miss out on extraordinary things.

There was a man, smart, and with privilege, that did not question his being. He disliked to question his surroundings, and in doing so, feared his lack of freedom. He feared not being free, but even more so, the cost of his freedom. He was hesitant to speak up, and to challenge what he had known for so long, despite knowing he was unhappy.

In his lack of happiness, he decided to create an image and a story in his head, that would allow his imprisonment to seem okay. He created the idea that freedom was in things, and in people. That freedom was a state of mind rather than actions. He attempted to go on adventures and cross things off his bucket list, but there was no freedom in his privilege. He enjoyed spending time with people, but only within his comfort level.

One day he met a woman that was complete opposite of him. While he fell in love with her, his attachment to his fear was so much greater, too great to challenge the idea of being free, and in his freedom, to be with her. Instead he decided to stop his relationship. He cut communication and stopped seeing her, but he continued on and created the ideal story in his mind that would keep him from challenging his beliefs.

In his attempt to be okay with his decision, or lack of, he created a beautiful ending, knowing it would haunt him for the rest of his life. He kept a picture of her. He kept the stories and the memories of what once was but never could have been. He accepted the idea and enjoyed knowing he’d met her, but denied the idea that it was over due to his lack of action. He was free in his mind, but when he opened his eyes, it was all gone. He denied it and continued to push the thought to the side, only to find it present and vivid everyday. No matter where he went and how hard he tried. He saw her face in every person, all things reminded him of her, all phrases, and all words.

And just as he had mentioned, in his comfort, and his lack of action, fear imprisoned him, as he hesitated to speak up. He stood and let his life go by, and while he made excuses for himself, freedom and fear could not live in the same place.

Yes. Courage means being out of our comfort. It keeps us awake, and makes us question ourselves and our surroundings. Being courageous is exhausting. Being courageous means we don’t always agree with others, we lose friendships, and we are not always welcomed.

But best to be free in the world, than to be imprisoned to a set of rules. It is best to live our lives with courage, than to die in fear.
Better to live a life worth living, than to count our days with regret.

04/03/2017 – He still has a beautiful face. Ugh

beautiful eyes

beautiful smile

always a good listener

his hands, same like mine, but thicker…

plat shirt

birth mark (lunar) under the right eye

——————-

value  –  morals  –  foundation  : Courageous (Valerio Family).

 

On August 15, 2017 at 11:27pm I said my good byes to my love, who had plans to move back to India with his parents and accept their arranged marriage.
It’s done. I just hope God doesn’t let go of me as I pick up the broken pieces and move forward.

To be born and die every single day

Is it worth it?
The energy, the time, and the attentiveness in something that could be but may never be.

Is it worth it?
The memories, the lessons, the sweetness, the smiles, and the hope.

Is it worth it?
The tears, the heartache, the headaches, the anxiety, the stress, and the sorrows.

Is it worth it?
When the sun rises in the morning and my skin absorbs the first rays the sun, my lungs their first breath of fresh air, and my heart the first beats of a new day.

Is it worth it?
Each night when the moonlight fills the sky wrapped in stars, and every soul says goodnight.

Is it worth it?
To be born and die each day.

It is worth it; to live a life worth living everyday we wake up, and die each night courageously knowing it was a life worth living.

Nourishment for the soul or the body?

I have lived my whole entire life enjoying delicious plates created not only in my Mexican culture, such as our Carne Asada, Pozole, Menudo, other caldos, but also mouth watering foods that just thinking about them make me want to have them again. Living in the United States has also allowed me to welcome new flavors from American cuisine,  to Italian, Middle Eastern, Indian, and so many others. I have enjoyed the creativity, work, and love that has been put into these dishes, and for a long time, I called myself a foodie.

I had decided I would enjoy myself and try all kinds of meals that would allow me to explore my palette and cultures through all shapes of plate, seasonings, an spices. One thing I can say, it’s been a delicious experience. I can, hands down, not be able to pick a favorite dish, and I think that says a lot about the food I have tried; it has all been too great. There are foods I miss and others that I can live without. Going onto my second month being vegetarian has not been easy.

In fact, I have slipped a few times, but I am glad I have set standards and rules for myself. You must be wondering why any carnivore would turn vegetarian if I enjoy these dishes so much. I can cook, I enjoy baking, and my choices have officially been limited. I have the homework of searching new dishes within my boundaries and it makes it even more challenging to continue in this journey. Nonetheless, I realized something along my struggle, and am I glad an enlightening moment occurred.

We can nourish our soul. Sure, enjoying a Caldo de Rez  would be delicious, or even some ribs with corn and mashed potatoes, but how long would that feeling last? How long before I feel sick from the fats my body doesn’t need? Most of the time, in fact, our bodies become adjusted to fight these foods we love so much, to the point we don’t feel the effects, but it doesn’t mean these effects aren’t taking place. We may not feel the pain of the sugar as it enters the body, but it definitely has a toll on us. Likewise, with all theses delicious foods, and even more when in large quantities.

In another hand, we can nourish the body. This means we give our bodies what is necessary. Our individual diets may differ, but in the long-term, the goal is the same, that when in our hunger questioning what we will eat, we will pick our necessities over our desires. Yesterday evening I couldn’t figure out what to eat. I named all the kinds of foods I shouldn’t eat, and then I was left with nothing. I had thrown the towel and said some meaty food to nourish my soul, but I knew it wasn’t ethical or moral to my current standards. I realized that I could enjoy myself, or take care of myself. That we won’t always eat what we want, but what we need in order to protect our bodies.

If you’re wondering, I ended up eating a yummy salad with some fish. Technically I’d fall under pescatarian, rather than vegetarian because I am still eating some sea foods. At this point, be reminded that you are in control, and you choose your pace. Four years ago I decided to become vegetarian and lasted four months. I gave in to Carne Asada during my dad’s birthday and did not go back to being vegetarian after that. This time it’s different. It’s a journey, not a lifestyle or a diet. In this journey I am in control of the food I eat and how it affects me and the environment around me. I am aware of my current standards and what I have yet to reach. I don’t compare myself to others, and I cheer on for myself along the way every time I choose to eat something that has no meat.

I hope one day to become vegan, giving more weight and justice to our environment and the ecosystem, but we all start somewhere. Our journeys take different paces, they’re located in a different place, and they will have differing challenges. Regardless, it’s doing our best in a good day, and still doing our best during a bad day, where your best doesn’t make or break your journey. Today I chose to nourish my body, tomorrow has yet to come.

When Courage Meets Fear: A look in the mirror.

To be awake, to open our eyes, to open our mind, and to open our heart.

It takes willingness to move forward and to challenge one’s self to be courageous. While one stands in front of a mirror each morning, do we question our decisions? Do we question our past? Do we plan our future?

To be courageous means to question, to plan, to live. Courageous people live each day no matter the circumstances. To live by means to be free, even when caged in. To be free and to set ourselves free means to awaken from the excuses, to awaken from the lies, and to awaken from the illusions we create in our head in order to accept what has been handed to us. To be courageous means to become disillusioned with the current standards, and to challenge what we have accepted for so long while having expectations to be reached.

One can’t be free until we’re brave enough to get out of our comfort zone. One cannot be at peace, until we are shaken from our inner core. One cannot live until we have experienced the pain that only comes from growing from death. From ashes we rise, and from the soil we grow. It requires our brokenness, our sorrows, our stressors, and our experiences, to connect the dots and to make space for the new. One does not know how imprisoned we are until we remove those chains, until we look back, and understand what has been weighing us down.

In order to understand fear, the label, and its purpose, we must be freed from it. Fear, the label, otherwise an excuse. It’s purpose, to slow us down, to keeps us in our comfort zone, and for those who have lived in privilege, imprisoned in our luxury that comes at a high cost. Lucky is the man who that has nothing, because that man has nothing to lose.

Courage meets fear when we decide to sacrifice the illusion of our privilege, that while weighing us down, fear has always seemed to keep us safe, and been perceived as a value of comfort and peace. Fear, disguised as anxiety, nervousness, and caution. Without realizing that by letting go, we earn so much more. To take a leap of faith with the unknown is removing our comfort to make space for something much more sacred, our dignity to live our limited time we have been provided with. To quote Virginia Satir, while we may be constantly changing and evolving and learning more about ourselves, our foundation and our values are kept. Let us be reminded that while we “engineer [ourselves]” we are only beginning to understand what fear kept us from knowing about ourselves.

To look in the mirror, a reflection of doubt, of anger, of fear. To be fearful and to let life pass us by, to miss the opportunities that otherwise could have allowed us to learn about ourselves, and to carry the burden of the could have been but never was is giving ourselves less than we are valuable, and we are very much worthy of living life.

To look in the mirror, a reflection of courage, of strength, and of confidence. To be courageous and to welcome the challenges and obstacles that allow us to grow. To accept the pain and suffering that comes from becoming anew. To rejoice in our struggle while we learn how beautiful and extraordinary we can be. To remove the chains, to spread our wings, and to live as life was meant to be enjoyed.

To wake up, to look in the mirror, and to question the decisions we shall make. Who do we meet today?

The Forbidden Fruit

From the migrant population that pick our fruits and vegetables daily, doing the labor that no one else would like to do, to the label we wear as undocumented, the forbidden fruit is as desired, for its cheap labor, as rejected for being too overwhelming of a concept to grasp.

The forbidden fruit, exploited for its value, as it is underestimated due to its negative connotation.

Its sweetness, its color, its value, the shape, the smell, the feeling of holding and abusing of the forbidden fruit. The fruit itself, because of its label, and rejection, desired to be accepted, wanted, and used.

The forbidden fruit, with such high standards and expectations, seeks to meet only those who will work to reach and exceed those expectations, but because they fall short, the fruit remains forbidden, and without use.

The fruit that seeks to believe also settles for the least at seeing no other response. Falls short because despite its hight, its forbidden label discriminates and denigrates its value.

The forbidden fruit is our work, our value, our stories, and our humanity. The forbidden-ness of our lack of documents, our work without a nine digit code, and our lives and journey seeking to be loved and accepted despite our legality in this country.

We are the forbidden fruit: the undocumented people that stand high on a tree waiting to be reached for by someone who will see us for our value, and embrace us for what we can be.

To be loved, to be accepted, to be embraced, and be celebrated, the forbidden fruit stands high on a tree waiting for someone to climb up and take a hold of, not because it is forbidden, but because it has yet to be seen for its value.

White Paper 2011

In a cold winter

through the loneliness of life,

A depressed writer

missing his now gone wife.

In a closed-in room

hoping for a bit sunshine,

waiting for the roses’ bloom.

By a dripping cup of wine

across a desk full of wisdom,

through the letter’s beautiful design.

In a cold winter

through the loneliness of life,

a depressed writer

waiting for his now gone wife.

To Pause

To pause and reason over life’s mistakes,

to pause and wonder empty and incomplete plans,

to pause and weep over people who have left,

to pause and smile once the crying is over.

To pause when one is exhausted,

to pause because others have left too early.

To pause when we have to reason,

to pause due to wisdom.

To pause because we’re confused,

to pause when things just weren’t good.

To pause, to slow down, and to stop.

Because if we recklessly move forward, it’d be much more of a shame, than if we just took a second to slow and think twice how valuable our lives are, enough to pause.

And because our lives are that valuable I ask you to…

Pause, slow down, and stop.

Because you are valuable, you are worth:

every second we pause, we slow down, and stop.

 

Too Much, too soon, too often, and without enough time.

My draft began over a week ago, when being too much had consistently been portrayed as a bad thing. My whole life I had been portrayed as too much.

I was too loud for the family gatherings. My grandma, on my dad’s family, thought my voice was too squeaky. My aunt thought I was too annoying, too outspoken, too much.
In the class when I was in elementary I was always too talkative, too loud, too annoying.
When it came to having goals and aspirations for myself, in the hope to become a very good woman with great qualities, I decided to work my ass off and learn. I learned how to cook, how to bake, how to be organized, and every feminine thing a woman of the house should be.
Outside, I learned how to cut grass, how to pick up heavy things, how to paint, how to build things, how to be proactive.
At school, I wanted to be aware of my surroundings, of the government, of the social issues affecting other individuals, and our environment. I became educated, while others called it too nerdy, too geeky, too much for school.
When I figured that I didn’t understand relationships I took the summer to do research, read articles, interview people, and read books. I asked my aunt who is a nun what love meant, and where I could find scriptures in the Bible that would resonate with my search. I listen to church guest speakers at youth gatherings, and of course, I googled…

I had set high expectations for myself, because I decided I couldn’t have them for anyone else unless I reached them as well. After my first break up, when I told my high school sweetheart that I couldn’t be with him because he did not meet what I was searching for, his words were the following:

“You are not going to find what you’re looking for, you’re not going to find it… and even if you do, you won’t be happy.”

I didn’t agree with him. I knew he had said it out of anger, but how much it has resonated with me until this day, I did not expect. I did and I have worked hard. I have worked very hard and kept busy, I’ve been selfless. I wanted to help others where I have felt I was once discriminated, and abused. I made sure to give it my all to every project and every person I have ever met.

I had only one other relationship, seven years later, and lasting only less than a month. The guy ended up being a total asshole. In fact, his ego and his confidence were so great, I mistook his cockiness for an empowering characteristic. How wrong was I, and by the end, how used I felt. He broke up with me, over the phone, after more than a week of not seeing each other. I was not worth his time, and for the first time, I felt like I wasn’t too much, in fact, I wasn’t enough, and that was worse.

Again, the words of my first boyfriend resonated, and like a drum, I could hear the rhythm in my head repeating the same beat as I told myself, I would never find anyone with whom I could connect.

I was wrong. On December 27, 2016 I met the most awkward, weird, and introverted nerd I could have hoped to meet. He was my kind of perfect. He stole my heart with his eloquent questions, his google engine searches, and his vocabulary. He always knew what to say. He always had the right answer, at the right time…
I fell for his cleverness, his sarcastic comments, I fell for the way he saw life. I liked him, and the way he processed everything made me find things intriguing. This Indian engineer wasn’t just smart, he was also caring, and sweet; he was a gentleman. After long written messages, a beautiful smile, eyes, and phone calls, I couldn’t step back.
I remember the day we met like it was yesterday. Sometimes I like to replay it, because it bring a smile to my face. He was on his way back home, three and a half hours away, and he took the time to sit down with me. It was the best time I have ever spent at any restaurant. I was super nervous and came in probably overly prepared with social justice related topics among others. The next three hours were the best hours I have yet to live, and the rest a whole lot of madness.

I should have known, that if the quote were to stand, something had to go bad. “…even if you do find it, you won’t be happy,” but I was. In fact, I was the happiest. I looked forward to his phone calls, I looked forward to his visits, and I looked forward to him viewing my snapchats. He was everything I could have hoped for, and we weren’t even dating. He was so hesitant that every little thing he did meant the world. Half the world could have cared less about Anaiza, and here he was, a man spending hours on the phone talking about nothing and everything at the same time. A man driving hours to see me. A man who became someone so special by his character and the way he carried himself.

Sadly, customs and cultures always play a big role, and I respect it so much I can only joke about going against them. This wonderful time had and has an expiration date. He came in as quickly as he had to leave. I wasn’t even able to take one breath before it was all gone, but I will treasure his greatest gift, which I hope will break the curse that has haunted me for more than seven years.

The words he used and what he said made me feel naked to my core. I had nothing to lose and so much to gain. I felt vulnerable, and weak. Abused from my past experiences and without energy. He said:

“I wish for you to find a man who will be all this and much more, a man who will be too much along with you, so that you don’t feel like you are too much alone.”

To be wished to be happy, and with someone who will keep up with my madness and with being too much, from someone who accepted and embraced me being too much. He was the only person who has ever celebrated me being too emotional, too loud, too proud, too ethnic, too opinionated, too disruptive, too much. To hear it for the first time, that being too much was not a bad thing, when I understood that being good enough was the perfect measurement, not too much, not less than, but enough to be accepted, and here this man celebrated my overpouring and overpowering personality.

It doesn’t matter how sweet it sounds, it had and it has an expiration date, and when it comes, it will be gone. A pumpkin at midnight, when that day comes I will still be too much, and it makes sense. It’s not about being not enough, where being too much becomes the same thing, rejected for being overqualified. He might have taught me that “[being] too much” is a compliment to my persona, but it’s one in a million, and with that I was also reminded of something. I was reminded that I need someone by my side who will not cave when things get tough. I need someone by my side who will fight when challenges arrive. I need someone who will keep up with me, because I, alone, can’t do it all; and even being too much would suck if I felt alone even in company.

I have heard this too often. Being too much, too passionate, too determined, too dedicated… where people can’t keep up and I end up by myself. It’s going to happen again, it’s just a matter of waiting for the expiration date to reach its time, and then to be left on the same track, being too much, too soon, too often, and without enough time to find a way to have the only person who celebrated my being, stay.

But in a world where it is socially demanded to obey specific guidelines, I have always been too much, too soon, and too often; against time. In a world that expect us to surround ourselves with followers and those who accept life and their fortune, I have always wanted to challenge and question it. In a place where we are demanded to quiet down, I have spoken up because it hurts more to stay down. It doesn’t matter how much it hurts to be too much, to soon, too often, and always against and without enough time. It would pain me so much more to not be Anaiza. Being me may be a curse, but it is a blessing, for myself, as I am sure many others, and no matter how exhausting it is, how many times I slow down and take a few seconds to rest it off, I rather keep moving forward.

To end my note, I have always believed I had a past life. In fact, I may have been Indian then. I believe I am here for a reason, and while it may be multiple little things, it may also be that there’s an ultimate goal and purpose for my existence. I don’t know, and I won’t know until I look back and connect the dots, but until then I will enjoy life and what it has to offer. I will enjoy my surroundings and the people I meet. I will learn from those who I am not appealing to and from those who learn to love me for who I am. I will embrace as I always have, those who I encounter through life whether there is an expiration date or they stay throughout my journey, because I wouldn’t have it any other way. Otherwise I wouldn’t be content.

In a world where being too much, too soon, too often, and without enough time, I choose to be Anaiza because if I am already running out of time, I might as well make it count.