It’s a start, right?

I’m scared, you know.
I have always been that girl who had huge dreams.
I would always go and zone out, every now and then, just to think about what I want in my life.
But if you ask me, right at this moment, I would shrug and say, “I’m not sure.”
I would say that because I’m really not sure.
Maybe because I am that type of person: I want too much of everything.
I want everything.
I want to do and experience every single thing that life has to offer. I am so damn in love with the world that I want to breathe every single bit of it. I don’t want to miss anything because the world is so damned beautiful to ignore.
For the first time in months, probably a year or so, that I wrote something like this. An entry that I wrote because I wanted to inspire people; I wanted to touch lives.
I realized, while sitting in front of this damned laptop that I only write when I’m inspired.
And it’s the first time I’ve written something for so long.
Knowing that, man, I knew I have been so uninspired for quite a time.
But this entry isn’t about what inspired me. This entry is about what could inspire me.
I want everything. I want too much of everything.
I am not ashamed of that fact because it keeps me moving… or not.
Before graduation, I was always certain of the life I wanted. I was the one who was most likely to achieve a lot because I had so many goals. I had so many things in mind. Not to mention that I was always the kind of person who strive hard to get what she wanted.
But that’s the thing about the person I was. It’s who I used  to be.
It’s part of the person that was me.
After I graduated, I don’t know how it happened but I lost sight of everything  I have imagined before that damned Cum Laude medal clung onto my neck.
I suddenly woke up with all these fears of not making it; of not getting what I wanted despite the best efforts of trying to. I suddenly woke up fearing that one big leap. I woke up one morning realizing that I have lost the one thing that I always had in me: faith.
Faith in my self, faith in what I do, faith in what I can do – I always had it. Had.
Then, I got into a situation where I was forced to move and do something that was never in my plan. I got into something that was forced out of the situation because this what everyone around me told me – or at least, this is what the people that matter told me.
Just a few hours ago – before I sat and started this – my friend asked me (and I’ll translate it just not to spoil the mood): “How long have you been there?”
And I said, “Seven months.”
Then, it hit me.
Man, it’s been seven months of being stuck, of doing what I  never really wanted. Seven months of what could’ve been the time I served for starting to fulfill my goals – or at least half of it.
Just saying that relieved me. Why?
Because yeah, I may not know what I want exactly but at least I know what I don’t want.
Seven months of being scared of failures and I realized that I have failed merely because I haven’t tried anything.
Early in my life, I have become a failure and for the first time, that sounded positive because yeah, it is still early in my life.
That gives me hope that maybe, I could get my life back on track. Like before.
The new year really hit me, like wrecking ball or truck or a door; it could be just a slap on the face but whatever. It’s a quarter after two and the fact that I have been writing… means something.
This entry is not a blog of resolutions. I don’t do resolutions because I don’t intend of changing myself. This entry is about recollecting; re-gathering the person that I used to be because I know, that that person is the one who will fight to live another day.
I’m not being sentimental. I’m just sharing my thoughts.
Or maybe I am being sentimental.
And I love it because the old me, the person that I loved being, always had a thing for dramatics.
Yeah, I’m grinning like a fool right now because this could be  a sign.
I just came home from a night out with friends and yeah, aside from the new year, I guess, this night is the transition that I have been waiting for.
Transitions in life are usually marked by major events. Birthdays, graduations, weddings. But the greater transitions often come out of smaller moments. When we stop and look at where we are. Because each time we see how far we’ve come, we also see how far we still have to go.
Sniffing, I realized that I still have one hell of a way to go.
You know, the thing about me is that, I have always been lazy to change the things that I hate. But I have read from a friend’s book, that it is about fear. Maybe, I was afraid of trying my hardest but still not succeeding.
But my word for 2012 is: move.
Just like what I have said, I have been stuck for seven months or eight and counting. That’s seven months – or eight and counting – of not doing anything to change the situation. 
No, I am not going to say that this year, I’m going to achieve all my goals not because it is impossible but because it still one hell of a way.
Instead, I’m going to move because as one friend Tweeted, “the first step to getting somewhere is deciding that you aren’t going to stay where you are.”
I am not unhappy, just a little discontented.
There would always be that one moment when the stars would align and give you a sign that will say: the time is now.
I know, I preached myself once saying: hold on to sixteen as long as you can. Meaning, I told myself to slow down, not rush things because they come in good timing and timing is everything. You know, the “you’re only young once” excuse and all the shit.
But I realized, that starting to move my feet from being stuck on the land I hate, is not rushing things.
I’m only young once and I can only do the things I love while I am young. So, yeah. I’m going to start taking my feet off the ground and back. I’ll start moving or running.
It’s a start, right?

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