Misplaced & (then) Placed

I wrote Misplaced when I was seventeen and then Placed when I was eighteen.

I remember staring at a blank screen when the sequel to my first book was over. I had come to realize that writing a page or two about myself was harder than actually publishing two books in one year. Through my eighteen years of life, I’ve digested the simple fact that you are never more alive than when you are a teenager. It’s like your brain is flushed with chemicals that turn your life into a story of epic proportions.

My first and second books come from various times in my life; sexual assault, heartache, love, grief, drug abuse, and of course, the inevitable process of growing up.

This is a raw rage, commonly referred to by adults regarding me as angst, but I saw, and still see, my books as something deeper than that, something that cannot be contained in one word.

I believe this rawness, my anger, my sadness, this wonder is possibly the time when my feelings have been the most sincere.

The year 2020 had been eventful beyond comprehension. But if tomorrow didn’t exist, I am proud of who I was, even if I don’t say it more often than I should. After reading such explicit books, many may think I’m crazy, wild, young, and maybe even a little free. But if that’s the reality then you have it all wrong.

I’m actually really careful, and quiet. I overthink and analyze, it’s logic over loving. I learned that emotion brought me nothing but disaster. So now, I simply hold my bottle of water and sit in the corner smiling.

I’m so hopeful though. Hopeful that things will continue to be better and excited to see all the things that I will accomplish not only for myself but in honor of every single person who has pushed me to make it this far. I’ve realized that my gazes are still somewhat informed by my unknowingness, and I’m intoxicated and addicted to how it feels to experience something for the very first time.

This, above all things, was a piece of my heart that I’m giving to you- the reader. 

Although these were my works from the past, everything is still the first of many things for me.

I assume I was attracted to, and at least intimidated by, making something about this very specific time because healing is such a void.

Ugh! There is so much space! So many uncontrolled, so many un-worded feelings. Especially when it comes to healing. I was at war with myself. Struggling between life and death.

But as I finished these two books, it humbles me to think about how things have changed since the origin of these memories.

I am learning that a lot of this growing-up thing is mostly just accepting that a lot happens when the moment simply sweeps you up and life hits you all at once.

But let me tell you a little secret, when life happens at its best, your world falls into place.

Everything is elevated at full brightness.

I could tell you the basics, the typical answer to where I see myself in five years, and although I consider myself quite the planner, I haven’t the slightest idea. And maybe it’s because it’s less about what I want to be and more about who I want to be.

I am far from perfect and a long way from knowing everything. But I do know enough to want to be the very best parts of the people I love best. I only hope that someday I will.

The year that these books were published, I learned to be curious in my sadness, but also curious in my joy. I am ever-seeking and ever-feeling! I am transfixed by growth, and by grief. It’s all so stunning, so rich, and I will never convince myself that I cannot be somber, cannot be hurt, and cannot be overjoyed.

I want to feel it all. I don’t want to cover it up. I am not like the ordinary world. I have dire moments, I like to think I live in another dimension, and I do not have time for things that have no soul.

So once again, thanks for reading.