The newly printed copy of my essay was pressed against my chest protectively, as snow in whimsical spirals fluttered to the ground. It felt like Christmas, drunken students from the bar had started an impromptu snowball fight in the square, shouts and exclamations echoing off of the concrete buildings. Laughter, for absolutely no reason but the sheer joy of snow, came bubbling from my chest. It felt unnatural, so I continued to do it. It came out, so loud, so strange. The resurrection of laughter came from my ragged lips. I mean to practice it more.
For nearly the first time, I am forcing myself to face my fears. It seems so strange, but my greatest fear is sucess, and routine, and ordinary life. So I have to allow myself to admit these fears, and to further chase away all of the doubts. For with the fear of sucess, comes the knowledge of sucess and thus the fear of failure. I am afraid that I won’t live up to my own expectations if I set myself goals. I am afraid also that these goals will own me and I will not be able to free myself of them, to be the gypsy I know whose blood boils in me.
So this Essay, clutched to my chest and shaped to its warm smoothness under the jacket, is a talisman of change. And each word that I write for each class is another step towards the realization of all of my dreams that I never dared to take a step towards.
for this chance, this moment,
this glorious mind.
Thank you for the snow that has caused a child-like joy to glow in my bosom.
Thank you my lady life,
for coming back to me.
With love to you, my comrades of the great wide world.
Abigail The Brave