The Best Thing In Life

The Best Gift That Never Came Wrapped With A Bow But Just Happened To Appear In My Life

I believe those happen to be the best.

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Life works in many mysterious ways. One day you can have it all, and the other you have nothing. One day you can have nothing, and the other day you have everything. It's so mysteriously amazing that somebody just now ran into their favorite actress in their local grocery shop. This is what I like to call the little gifts of life.

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These little gifts can range from a random dog running to be pet by you, being grazed by a calming, soothing gust of wind, eating a donut. They're those small details we sometimes can take for granted. Sometimes, even people happen to come into our lives, and we never realize just how lucky we are for knowing those certain people

About eight months ago, I was going through some rough times. I was not entirely happy with myself or anything. Nothing that I did was pleasant in any way possible. I felt like a human rag doll, devoid of emotions – just being thrown around, waiting to see what was in stock for me.

But on a Saturday afternoon, a day I can remember as well as my own name, I happened to meet this boy. I never noticed it until a couple months, but whenever he happened to be around, I would feel this small spark breaking in me. Flashforward eight months later, that small spark transformed into the power of the burning Sun.

Many people claim that we shouldn't rely our happiness on other people, for most of them come and go. Some just come and fill you up with promises but then wonder why you cry. Others come and they offer you a support you never asked for, and the next day they turn their back. There are those that betray us. We can't rely on humans because we have learned to not trust other people.

But they are just biases, and biases don't apply to everybody. They are general assumptions of others that make us lack that trust. And most of the time, a person just randomly appears and changes your entire perspective of the world – your perspective on life and in those moments the fall is inevitable.

It's impossible to hide a feeling when it is so obvious to the entire world. It's hard to hide it when you're wrapped in a cocoon full of warmth. It's hard to abide by their rules. And it's best when you break them.

Eight months after that fateful Saturday afternoon and the entire world has been way different.

The thunderous clouds have dissipated.

The blue sky shines bluer and brighter every day.

And the entire world just seems to be so full of light.

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To The Nursing Major During The Hardest Week Of The Year

I know that no grade can possibly prove what kind of nurse you will be. I know that no assignment will showcase your compassion. I know that no amount of bad days will ever take away the empathy inside of you that makes you an exceptional nurse.

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To the Nursing Major During Finals Week,

I know you're tired, I know you're stressed, and I know you feel like you can't go on. I know that no part of this seems fair, and I know you are by far the biggest critic of yourself. I know that you've thought about giving up. I know that you feel alone. I know that you wonder why in the world you chose one of the hardest college majors, especially on the days it leaves you feeling empty and broken.

But, I also know that you love nursing school. I know your eyes light up when you're with patients, and I know your heart races when you think of graduation. I know that you love the people that you're in school with, like truly, we're-all-in-this-together, family type of love. I know that you look at the older nurses with admiration, just hoping and praying that you will remain that calm and composed one day. I know that every time someone asks what your college major is that you beam with pride as you tell them it's nursing, and I know that your heart skips a beat knowing that you are making a difference.

I know that no grade can possibly prove what kind of nurse you will be. I know that no assignment will showcase your compassion. I know that a failed class doesn't mean you aren't meant to do this. I know that a 'C' on a test that you studied so. dang. hard. for does not mean that you are not intelligent. I know that no amount of bad days will ever take away the empathy inside of you that makes you an exceptional nurse.

I know that nursing school isn't fair. I know you wish it was easier. I know that some days you can't remember why it's worth it. I know you want to go out and have fun. I know that staying up until 1:00 A.M. doing paperwork, only to have to be up and at clinicals before the sun rises is not fair. I know that studying this much only to be failing the class is hard. I know you wish your friends and family understood. I know that this is difficult.

Nursing school isn't glamorous, with the white lab coat and stethoscope. Nursing school is crying, randomly and a lot. Nursing school is exhaustion. Nursing school is drinking so much coffee that you lose track. Nursing school is being so stressed that you can't eat. Nursing school is four cumulative finals jam-packed into one week that is enough to make you go insane.

But, nursing school is worth it. I know that when these assignments are turned in and finals are over, that you will find the motivation to keep going. I know that one good day of making a difference in a patient's life is worth a hundred bad days of nursing school.

Keep hanging in there, nursing majors. It'll all be worth it— this I know, for sure.

So, if you have a nursing major in your life, hug them and tell them that you're proud of them. Nursing school is tough, nursing school is scary, and nursing school is overwhelming; but a simple 'thank-you' from someone we love is all we need to keep going.

Sincerely,

A third-year nursing student who knows

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The Old Oak Tree

A short poem about returning to one's childhood home.

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Looming over the burned-out house is an oak tree,

Hundreds of years old at least.

The smell of smoke is gone, but skeleton of the house remains,

A mere speck when compared to the tree.

Whose branches reach out to me like hands,

Begging for me to come closer.

I do.

I sit under the tree like I did when I was young.

The ground is damp from the rain,

I feel the sogginess soaking through my jeans.

I remain.

It is cooler under the branches,

A limitless amount of leaves shades me from the daylight.

I stay there. All day.

Staring at the charred remains of my childhood home.

I stay there until fog begins to form in the crisp night air,

Cold and sharp against my cheeks.

No longer able to withstand the cold, I take my leave looking back once more.

It's nice to know that even when I'm gone,

The old oak tree remains.

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