The journal I wanted to write but couldn't @ 9:41 AM

I find a lot of faults in my life.

Why am I here, here, instead of where my family is? Why did I get such an early independence for a trade off of what? Education?
Some years in the past ago, I came so near to never coming back to the United States. I cried for days because I dreaded the flight back to LAX; I dreaded leaving my life. Every glorious summer in everyone's life was rebirth and death in mine. The rest of the year was a cycle, I felt like a momentary bubble free floating in air, waiting to burst in the sunshine. Free floating, but where was the independence in that?

I have occasional issues with self image.
My sense in organization and planning has deteriorated in the past couple of years.
Sometimes my view of the world feels corrupt. Feels impossibly upside-down.
As I can recall once or twice, I had woken up in the morning wishing I hadn't, wondering why I did.
I believe my faith in God comes clearest only when I need something. Need something. How selfish is that?
My family says I nearly died from an asthma attack when I was five or six. I'm afraid of another episode.
At night, I look at the skies, at the constellation overhead, and wonder what another life would be like.
I feel married to my chosen major, career, road.
I sense some failure somewhere in the future.


It's times like this I doubt if fate is not merely a result of many coincidences.


Then I step out of myself, to see clearest and closest to being unbiased. It always seems easier to make a choice when it's not personal.
Then I step into your shoes, their shoes. Maybe things are clearer from here.

And realization.
I would not want any other life. Have it another way, and it wouldn't be mine. The choices I've made are the cause of why I am here. There is no reason to live in the past, to dwell in regrets of yesterday.

Then I look around.
There are worse people in worse situations. In hunger, poverty, illness, mental derangement, some sort of incapability. Many times the choice is not left up to them. To be alone, depressed, even dead. Is there anything I could do? In a messed up reality, we look at them and compare, happy that their life is not ours. The life that you have might be better than theirs, but what did you do to deserve it?

I want to do what I want to do. To make my parents proud, to aid another life. Even a small candle, when lit, can erase all darkness in a large room. If today I can make a smile come your way, know that you have brought a smile to me too.


My family will always have my back. I'll get by with a little help from my friends.