As a 16-year-old, my future was crystal clear when I looked ahead. I was certain that I was called to create. In my innocence, I had no idea that the pathway to purpose would be a roller coaster of failures, emotions, wonder, and wandering before ending up in the right place. Younger me envisioned success as sitting on a terrace in Italy painting the clouds. No responsibilities, just time. So full of expectancy. So full of faith that I would end up exactly where I wanted to be.

I was heavily interested in art, poetry, and creative writing in my teens. Writing had become such an important part of my expression. It was a safe haven for me. Every emotion of mine was free to explode onto empty pages. You see, I was not an outwardly expressive person. I was very introverted and introspective. It was not like me to ever say how I truly felt. So as you can imagine, writing was the space where I felt the most free.

Little did I know, that growing up would force a wedge between us. My pen and I would only be a memory.

My heart wandered. I explored other avenues of creativity, other ways of life. Eventually, the fire was gone. There were no sparks, passion, or even a thought for writing. Do you know that the focus of money can get in the way of your dreams? When you are hyperfocused on the results and what your work will produce, your judgment can get cloudy.

I was focused on making a living, starting and sustaining a business, and working as hard as I could to find success. Hustle culture is so familiar. It feels like we are running towards a light at the end of a tunnel but the tunnel is never-ending. What I learned the hard way is that grinding it out can lead to a slow burn. The type of burnout that causes total disconnection. I found myself in this. Sinking into exhaustion, unable to grasp for air.

My emotions were raging, boiling over, and spilling into what I thought I loved. They were the culmination of my silence. I'd gone far too long without expression, until that moment.

The moment when I remembered that I loved words. The moment when I realized that I had a choice.

I find myself falling in love with words again. The type of love that a responsible adult shouldn't have. Or at least, that is what I was taught. Writing found me on the back end of a storm. I stumbled on it. I was looking for peace, for sanity, for mere clarity. And it caught my eye like a flower blooming in a dark place. I am utterly captivated. The power that words have is truly unmatched.

The vision for my future is ever-evolving. It is fluid art.

What I do know is that I've chosen eternity.

I've decided that these words, my words... won't die.

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Be honest. Be hopeful. Be love.

Peace.