I was just apart of history. Myself and 1,999 other people.
As I arrive back home I realize one thing and it is the reason why I need to leave. The reason why my heart sinks right after it is literally shouting with love and crying with happiness. My fire is just continually put out and I can no longer bear to be surrounded by the people who do that to me.
As I'm standing in the midst of thousands of people, I realize that the moment we are sharing is beyond all of us, that each of us share this burning passion that fuels our desire, and that we are literally being the change we wish to see in the world..every single one of us.
And most of all, I realize that I shouldn't have let my mouth slip a yes to going to India when my heart shouted Africa.
I almost feel unnecesarry, just completely not needed. And as I cringe at the thought of allowing my heart to slip into something worthless, I feel the tug getting tighter and tighter.
You just did something unbelievable and as you open the door, no one congratulates you, but only fills your heart with doubt.
You just went to hours of meetings and looked people straight in the eyes and could feel the sincerity and a person who doesn't even give a shit about purpose, equality, or love tells you they must have been lying.
Sometimes I have fought so hard and I'm standing on this hill of contentment and I love myself, finally. And I truly believe in myself, my passions, my heart, and my ability. And I get a glimpse of what I'm running towards.
And then the tiniest push from them makes me believe I'm not the one in the photograph.
That couldn't be me.
But it is.
And my passions and my words turn into actions because I'm fighting for purpose.
But, somehow, their push triumphs all that I've accomplished.
and all I can feel is defeated.
Sometimes I forget that I'm the one in the photograph and that I have something that is nonexistent to them.
and that is the ability to jump first.
