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ϟ Let’s live out those cliches

This is your youth.

Because if not now, then when?

Don’t be the jaded older-something wishing they lived more in college. Don’t be the person who sat by and watched as life passed them by, a passive observer in their own story. There’s time for regrets, but that time isn’t now.

Now is the time for sharing a glass of wine with your girlfriends. Now is the time for walks in the warm summer evenings, for morning runs in the brisk fall air. Now is the time to watch as summer fades into fall, to live out the cliches of dancing in the rain and kissing under mistletoe. Now is the time to enjoy the little things and to embrace what you have, heartbreaks and flaws and all. It’s the time to bask in the fading sun, enjoying the last rays of light. It’s the time to dance the night away without any thoughts of tomorrow, to fall asleep side by side with the people you’ve fallen in love with more than you intended to.

This is your youth, and it won’t last forever. Do the things you’ve always wanted to — tell that boy that you like him, tell that girl that you’ve loved her all along. Dance every dance, sing along to every song. Breathe in deeply, finding peace within yourself. Walk briskly in the crisp fall air, feeling the leaves crunch beneath your feet as you watch the seasons change for the first time. Explore the city you live in and explore all the cities you’ve always wanted to explore. Travel, because if not now, then when? Love the strangers you pass on the street, love the parents who have given you everything, love the friends who have stood by your side through your best and your worst, and most of all, love yourself. Remember that we’re all trying to find peace in this hurried life, that we’re all trying to be our brightest and happiest, that we’re all looking for our happy endings. Remember that this life is yours, and it’s the only one you have.

This is your youth, so live it now.

Nancy Chen

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ϟ We Are Each Objects of Convenience

This is why who we are to each other has always gone unsaid, unknown.

To you, I am not a person. I am a thing. My purpose fluctuates with your needs, but I cannot be it all.

I will never be the transfusion which saves your life, which fills your veins with the ability to keep moving, which restores your breath into the outer stretches of your body. I will never course through your heart.

I am simply a bandage for the wound. I am worn tightly when it is fitting, when you are scared and bloodied and uncertain of getting through the night alone. I am called upon when you are in pain but I am useless when you have healed.

I will never be the dog-eared book, the favored worn pages turned with a mixture of delicacy and urgency as your breath catches in the rush to return to your beloved passages, to dwell, to linger. I am no part of your fantasies.

I am simply your bookmark, your placeholder when you are at a standstill. I am set aside and forgotten when the story gets good, preserved half-intentionally, but replaceable by the merest scrap of paper.

I will never be the end itself; I am simply the means to one.

But I cannot protest, for, to me, you are the merest scrap of paper.

You are simply the fragment of unlined paper with a graphite scrawl. You are the napkin, grasped in a rush and blackened with a turning phrase. You are the back of the discarded envelope, the receipt, the borrowed slip of paper, ink drying upon you fresh after a scrambled search.

You are simply the bits and pieces on which I practice. Your arrival is a saving grace, relieving me from the madness in my mind, capturing the first hints of all that may come, but your edges are too narrow for you to hold it all.

You will never be my finished draft, my masterpiece, my work of art, my legacy. You will never be whole by my hand, bound tightly with pieces of my soul, offered jointly to the world. .

I will not turn you into more.

You will be the means, but you will simply never be the end itself.

We are each objects of convenience, and not objects of love.

I will stay the unspoken vow. I will remain the unwritten letter. I will never be the roar and light of whom you desire. I am simply the echoes and the shadows. My existence is a necessity in an absence, nothing more.

I cannot say when you will discard me entirely, when the assortment of what I can offer you is worth less than the price of holding on, the cost of keeping track. I know I shall often discard you, but it will never be entirely. It will be bit by bit and I shall replace you piece by piece. Sometimes, you are not to be found. Sometimes, you are lost before I have the chance to dismiss you. Forever, though, absolutely forever, I will seek you out.

Julie Hieggelke

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You don’t get to choose if you get hurt in this world, but you do have some say in who hurts you.  —John Green - The Fault In Our Stars
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