In eleventh grade, Stef and I did a project on identity for a philosophy class. It was a painted black box, labeled “self”, that opened up and opened up to reveal a smaller box, covered in newspaper. Each layer had a word in which we identify ourselves – spheres of proximity to the sense of self. The last layer was a painted black box with a question mark – held together by velcro. Tearing through the velcro inside, was a shattered mirror, put back together again – constructing a whole, and also reflecting individual images through each facet.

It occured to me there have been some changes in my life that were so significant that I use the past sense of being to denote them. I used to be a dork. I used to be a tomboy. I used to be white-washed.

And what of the graver ones? I used to be a dreamer. I used to be an innocent. I used to be the kind of person that got results.

This past month, feels like I have been holding the strands of significant relationships in my life in one hand, and a pair of sissors in the other. I guess every person needs to learn to make key decisions on their own, but to lose all of one’s mentors, parents and relatives all in one month – well.. is a little frightening.

Somehow this year, I feel like the decisions I make are becoming more and more paramount. How to maintain the motivation to get the grades, to apply to jobs, law school, and finanace such lofty endeavors. It’s make-or-break time, and stand seems a little empty, almost like an away game. It makes me wonder if in 10 months time, when I’m walking down the aisle to accept my diploma, whether anyone will be there to see it. Or law school. Or the bigger aisle, my wedding day.

It makes me a little fearful of how many challenges are out there, and how lonely I feel this month, how much I miss my mentors and close friends and saddens me that home is not where I need to be, and some people, I just can’t have in my life right now. I’m worried about that support. Worried that I can’t reach my full potential without them keeping me rooted and grounded. I’m worried that one day I’ll look back, and think that I could have been something greater, and somehow in my 20’s, lost my way and became just another one of those who hat a shot at something, and didn’t meet the cut.