My mind. My life. My love. My time. My soul.

When I was growing up, my Grandmother told me,

I can do anything, be everything to reach my goal.

I was born for a reason, born to be free.

My mind. My love. My death. My time. My soul.

My life has no end like time, it never stops.

Colors and pictures within my imagination, darker it drops.

And yet, I struggle day to day, falling into a hole.

Each year that passes by, I’m the only thing changing.

I’m like a book, still unwritten on the old shelf.

Everything is up to chance. My life is undecided, fading.

My honor. My nature. My heart. My love. Being myself.

I’m who I want to be. Until my book ends.

That is when in the sky, my old soul ascends.

I wrote this poem when I was in highschool three years ago. It feels like it has been longer since I have graduated. I called this poem 18 Years Old, because I was about to turn eighteen within a few months. This poem was written during one of the most hardest times of my life.

I was, and still am trying to prove that I will make something of myself. I wanted to prove that I would graduate highschool on time even when I kept moving and falling behind. I moved away from all my friends, feeling as though I was alone. Sure I made new friends, but it wasn't the same.

I am still trying to make it in the world. I am an inspiring writer. I started working on my book this last week. I wrote an entire first chapter, over 2,000 words. I want to travel. Looking back at this poem, it pretty much sums up my struggle through life and yet I push through.

I survive. And it gives me hope that five years or ten years or maybe even fifty years from now I will be able to read it and it will still be true. Yes, I struggled more than most. But I made it. I made my dreams comes true by myself. And it will all worth it.