On the surface, it seems like such a simple question right? Who am I? But how do I take the question? Do I take it at a surface level and say my name is Sara, that I’m nineteen and in my first year of university, pursuing a degree in English and Education? Come on, is that really what you want to know? I don’t know you, but as a general rule people want the motives. The whys. The things that you wouldn’t know just by looking at me. Well…okay.
I’m a writer. I consider it a full time occupation, no question.
I’m a girl who has grown up in the midst of two cultures and is still struggling to find a balance.
I’m someone who has battled darkness and is now trying to pick up the pieces in the aftermath.
I’m surrounded by loved ones and yet my mind never allows me to be content.
I write to breathe, and to remind myself that my pain is not my own, but is shared by many.
I’m not perfect and neither is my writing. But it’s honest. So I ask that when you read it, you remember that I’m putting my heart in your hands. Not synthetic. Real, true, and raw with heartbreak and experience.
And if something inspires you, run with it. Please send it to me. I would be more than happy to see it and help out in any way I can.
Not so surface level now right?
And because I couldn’t help myself…
There is a girl.
There is a girl who’s every breath is one that she tries not to regret, even though the dark shadows in her mind often tell her that she should. There’s a girl, who feels as if she has an obligation to be tied to the darkness but she yearns so badly for the light that she’s willing to let the rope dig into her skin and let loose blood, just so she can see what the light feels like.
What it looks like.
What it sounds like.
There’s a girl who can’t stop wishing for miracles, can’t stop dreaming of things that she knows will never take place in her lifetime. There’s a girl, who constantly argues with herself, because she can’t bear to just let her mind go placidly along life’s flat path. There’s a girl, who has given away her heart many times, and often received her beautiful machine of life in tatters. There’s a girl, who has seen the beauty in people, and those who will lend her a hand and tell her to breathe when she feels like the air is waging a war against her.
When it ruins everything.
When it steals everything.
When it kills everything.
There’s a girl who knows she’s a fighter. She knows it. She can feel it running through her veins, can feel her mind continuously making sure that she has a reason to live. She can feel it every time she falls, because if she didn’t feel anything she would have ceased to exist a long time ago.
There’s a girl who is eternally grateful to every individual who has decided to walk with her on her path and read a few of her pages.
There’s a girl who is made up of fire and water, of light and shadows, of silent and loud, of her experiences.
And she continues to discover life.