Finding Briana

A Moment.

You feel so much love in a moment.

Then you realize that moment is part of an hour.

In this hour, you realize how little you know about

what will happen in a week.

A week is part of a month, and then part of a year.

What can happen in a year?

Feelings change, plans fall through, people come and go.

A year becomes part of a lifetime.

In a lifetime, we are expected to do something great.

But when will this greatness happen?

When will a lifetime become something worth remembering?

—Only in a moment.


When will my life begin? That’s the question I find myself asking over and over again.  I mean, I have a life, obviously. But when will I have a LIFE?  I begin to think to myself, at what moment did I actually see myself having a future?

Maybe it was when I started to get acceptance letters for colleges?  I ripped those envelopes open so quickly just to read that the first word was “Congratulations!” That did give me a confidence boost. All the hard work I put in during high school; learning things like geometry, chemistry, Spanish, etc.;  I’ll finally be able to surround myself with other people who also found these subjects just as useless as I had. I would be able to share my brilliant thoughts with intellectual scholars who will genuinely appreciate them. But after I was accepted, I thought about what I really wanted to focus my studies on. Maybe I could be a teacher and help to shape the young minds of tomorrow with my witty remarks and patience. Or maybe I would join a club and become the president so that I can become an advocate for some cause that I found was greater than my own.  As wonderful and exciting as these ideas were on paper, I was unable to put these plans into action. So I guess this plan gave me more overwhelming feelings of uncertainty than excitement about starting life.

It could have been when I graduated college.  I finally had a degree in something I enjoyed doing: Writing. Although, after I graduated, I realized that I had spent so many hours reading, analyzing, and picking apart the work of other people, I was never really able to find my own voice.  Sure, I had a piece of gold accented paper in a cheaply made cover saying that I had taken all of the classes I was supposed to take.  Little do people know that some of these classes caused me to change my style to fit the persona of a caffeine addicted, sleep deprived, borderline alcoholic college student who was trying her best to make it to class every morning after fighting sleep on the quiet third floor of the library while trying to finish that 29-page analysis of a book written by a dead person. But I did it; I have that piece of paper.

Maybe my life would begin after I graduated and began to give my credentials to those who were in charge of jobs I could picture myself doing everyday for the rest of my life.  I had a lot of connections in various areas of work, so I was positive something would come of it.

Months later, I’m still working two- crappy, minimum-wage, part-time jobs while living in my parent’s house.  I’m still giving my resume to people; but now it is being given to just about anyone who will take it.  I have just enough money to pay bills and maybe, if I’m lucky, buy food every once in awhile. Rather than pursuing my true calling— whatever that may be— I’m simply searching for something that will allow me to experience the feeling of having money leftover after I pay my bills. All I need to do is find something that gives me the same spark of excitement that I felt while opening acceptance letters, or holding that diploma.  I want to find the one thing that will give me that spark of happiness and self-worth everyday.  I just need to find the path that will lead me there.

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