Perspective

Perspective. Quite important. Understandably so. Yet difficult to integrate….especially in moments of high stress or fear.

This is a journal entry I wrote on June 9th 2010 at 5:17am. My 19 year old self mused about crying and pressure we put on ourselves and the triviality and unimportance of grades in the long run…my Abuelita’s 91st birthday was yesterday. We had a lovely celebration of the strong and powerful woman that she is. And my Mama Bear sent me a provocative, nice post reminding me that la vida es una: “You cannot give your life more time, so give the time you have more life.” We only have one of these lives–so how beautiful to share and fall and grow and revel in her beauty together.

“Why am I crying? Why!! Is it because I am blessed enough to have an education that demands my absolute best? Is it because I am a devout perfectionist who cannot just write a dam conclusion? Is it because I feel terribly guilty about the fact that I am stressing over things that won’t really matter years from now?

All I have to do is study. Write fluidly. Psycho-analyze. Be insightful/ I do not have to walk 10km for water. I do not have to worry about going to sleep hungry. Truly hungry. I do not have a terminal illness. the people I love are here, alive. Alive.

You know crying actually feels sort of good–in an odd way. It’s a way of releasing the unfounded stress that so overwhelms me.

Perspective. PERSPECTIVE. Why is it so hard to wholly and sincerely put life into perspective?

198/200

200/200

Those are the scores of my last two English essays. And right now I am feeling like there is no way in hell that this, my final essay, will. be able to live up to that. That doesn’t even matter.

Perspective.”