Bruises + being grateful

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I have a hard time reading other blogs. It’s not because I’m bored or disinterested – I just get so envious of their lives that I have to close the page before I burst into a tearful self-rant, about how college has me all bogged down and I just want to leave the university utopia and get on with my life.

Let me tell you, the struggle is real.

It all started with Monday. I was biking innocently to class when I found myself skidding on the concrete sidewalk, leaving myself with surface scrapes from the knee down. Later, I got kicked by a girl wearing cleats in soccer, leaving some nice cleat-shaped bruises and scrapes on my thigh. All in the span of 3 hours.

It wasn’t awesome.

External circumstances have a way of moving inward, leaving your insides bruised and sensitive. Frustration, confusion and self-doubt have all reared their ugly heads in the last 24 hours, tugging at the roots that keep me grounded. And reading the blogs of other people reminds me of all those things – frustration with how much I wish I could graduate and get out into the world, confusion about whether or not I’m making the right choice for my future, and doubt that I’m capable of doing what I want to do with my life.

Then it occurred to me that I blog, too. And all the things clicked.

I’m one of those people. Out in the world somewhere, there is someone who is wishing they could have a life like mine. And that blew my mind. It’s so easy to forget how lucky you are, you know? It’s hard to live my life when it doesn’t give me the space to write as much as I wish, but then I remember there are people in the world who have never even held a book. People who wish they could stop writing and start talking. People who wish they were too busy doing life with people to have time to write.

I remembered how lucky I am, to live this life. To have these delightful people who walk on and off my pages, letting their footprints tread letters in their wake. And I tell myself I can never forget how lucky I am. I can never take my life for granted, because the minute I do I forget about the people who would pay to live it.

We, the fortunate, middle-class, perfectly average communities of America: we are so lucky. Let our gratitude reflect our reality.

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