To my future daughter…

To my future daughter,

I want you to know that the world is beautiful.

It is here and nowhere else that butterflies are free to fly and elephants roam about.

The world is beautiful all around because it is here where you may always live in curiosity,

Because here you shall never be disappointed when you are striving to learn.

Little girl, the world is so beautiful,

Because it is here that flowers bloom every year and colorful leaves fall above you.

Baby girl, I hope you always see this beauty,

Because only here can you dance in the piazzas of Venice and stand in awe at the beauty of Paris.

My pretty girl, I will not lie, this world is not only filled with beauty.

It will hurt you, push you, kick you.

But this world is forgiving and this world is kind.

It will pick you up and encourage you to fly.

So, my beautiful girl, please listen to me now,

This world is yours to live in and yours to share.

Your beauty exists to mix with the butterflies and elephants and piazzas and create this amazing place.

To my future daughter, take what I have learned,

Dance in the rain and sing with the birds,

Because you are so beautiful and your world is too.

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Letter #1

For those of you who do not know, I am moving to Chicago this fall. With that, I have decided to do an installment of letters to members of my family. They will be somewhat personal, but I believe that many of you will be able to relate. So, here we go.

To my dad, the one that currently resides many, many hours away.

Thank you for teaching me the pain of distance. I know that sounds a bit aggressive, but I don’t mean it that way. Although you were not exactly there to raise me, your absence was able to teach me many valuable lessons.

After the divorce, I became aware that love does not always last, and therefore I should be cautious of the relationships I am in.

During our brief tradition of Wednesday night dinners, you taught me to never work in a job that makes me unhappy. It creates awkward silences and stress – a combination that no one should have to encounter.

When you left for the first time, you headed out to Thailand. You taught me that sometimes people need to get away to find out who they really are, and you showed that it was okay.

You went to Thailand a few times. Each time, I learned how to create a relationship with someone very far away.

When I told you I was in therapy during one of your trips home, your silence taught me that you don’t have to speak in order to understand.

When you left the second time, you moved to South Africa. That was when I learned that it is very easy to become disconnected with someone you were once very close with. I also learned that time zones are kind of a b*tch.

When you came back, I learned that it is possible to pick up broken pieces and put them together again. Certain relationships can withstand the test of time.

When you left for good, you moved away to California. When you broke the news, I learned what it felt like to have your heart shattered into millions of pieces. I learned that even when you are surrounded by people who love you, you can still feel alone.

Now that I am older, I know that it is not your fault that you had to leave all of those times. I understand that you needed to leave in order to discover who you really were and you needed to do what was best for you.

I know that you needed to hear this a long time ago, but I am proud of you. Both of us are human, both of us make mistakes, and I hope to see you back home one day.

Thank you so much for everything, even though you did not know what you did for me.

I forgive you.

Love,

Katelyn

Prompt: What is in the sky?

Have you ever wondered what is contained in the stars above you? It was said in a legend long ago that each star was an ancestor; another said that each one was a king or a queen or a leader of some sorts. To move into contemporary legends, some say that the stars are other life forms living among us… watching us. If you asked a practical person, such as a scientist, what stars are, they would explain to you that they are simply just collections of gas in space.

I feel as though the question “what is in the sky?” is more complex than it looks. If you take the time to think about it, you will come to realize that many things are up above us. The first things you will think of will be the most visible, such as birds and clouds, or the moon and the stars; however there are also conceptual items that seem to be in the mass of the unknown, such as prayers, sorrows, wishes, and even a higher power who controls the world in which we live.

For those of you that believe in a God, you know that when prayers are said, they are always sent up – never down – because up is where the heavens lie, and down is where despair awaits. You also know that your God is far above the clouds, invisible to the human eye, way beyond where our galaxy dares to reach. To ask for a blessing, you beg the planets and the stars to align in a fashion that brings you what you wish for. Everything that you ask for is sent to a place in the sky with hopes that something miraculous will be sent back down to you.

As for sorrows, people often use the phrase “letting go”. Whether letting go is acted out in a physical manner, such as writing down your burdens on a Chinese lantern and watching it float on into the sky, or figuratively, such as taking a deep breath and allowing your troubles be exhaled to a place beyond your reach, you are pushing something away from you in an upwards manner. As people, we feel the need to have balance in our lives, and it is believed that the sky brings that feeling of relief to us.

If I can bring you back to the image of stars for a moment – have you noticed that the number of stars visible is different in every part of the world? In America, you see quite a few, yet in the populated areas of China you see next to none, and then in Canada it seems as though the sky is lit up with glowing freckles because of the millions on millions of stars that you can see. If one of the legends is correct, that the stars truly are our ancestors whom have gone before us, then does that mean that one area has more than another?

I don’t want to seem as though I am full of ignorance. I know that pollution and gasses and such affect the visibility of the sky above us, but just think with me for a minute; pretend those facts don’t exist. Perhaps the places with the most stars are where our ancestors feel the most at home. I believe that I would much rather look out at the mountains for eternity instead of a busy city.

So if you were to ask me what I believe is in the sky, I would tell you so much more than the stars and the moon and the planets and the birds. I would tell you that everything I have ever dreamed, every prayer I have ever said, every wish I have ever made at 11:11 and every burden I have ever pushed away from me. Part of me is up in the sky above me, as is part of every other organism here on this earth, and maybe after we finish our time here, we will be reconnected with our lost pieces up above.

What inspires me to write

What inspires me to write?

Everyone comes with a story. Some people like to say they carry a lot of baggage, while others say that they travel light. Personally, the amount of luggage I claim depends on where I am going. Either way, I promise I will have a story to tell you.

I often write about other people, and how they relate to me. I find it to be quite easy to share other people’s stories. I like to show other perspectives to encourage my readers to have open minds, and through that, you can learn my own personal thoughts. I, however, have yet to write a post strictly about myself, and so I thought that today would be a good day to share a piece of me with you.

At least once a week, I am asked what inspires me to write. I don’t think people understand how complex this question is. I could go on for hours naming all the different parts of my life that have inspired me to become a writer; there are so many unique experiences I have had that have convinced me to spend my life telling stories. For you though, I will keep it somewhat short.

So what inspires me?

One: The incredible stories of other people. One of my favorite things to see is someone’s face light up as they talk to me about something they are extremely passionate about. It’s my passion to share theirs with all of you. I like to serve as a middleman, taking in the excitement and distributing it all over the world. (Yes, I see you my international readers – thank you).

Two: My beautiful family, amazing friends and my too-good-to-me boyfriend. Without them, I don’t know if I would be going into journalism. Although I am the first one to make a career out of something non-business related, they do appreciate my work and support me with every decision I make, such as moving to Chicago. I will always have to thank my family for encouraging my writing, my friends for taking the time to share it with others and my boyfriend for working with me through a long distance relationship and giving me plenty of topics to write about.

Three: Emotion. As stated in one of my previous posts, I am an extremely emotional person. Those feelings are what drive my words and they are where my power comes from. With every sentence I construct, I do it with some sort of emotion, whether it be with anger, happiness, sadness or any other. There would be no thrill to writing if my mind was not wired to react at the littlest of things.

There are so many more inspirations for me, such as role models like Anderson Cooper and Brian Williams (pre-scandal). I did say that I would keep it short, and I keep my word.

If you’d like, comment below what inspires you to do what you do. I would love to hear your stories; as stated, other people’s passion is my number one inspiration.

Borrowed lungs

I look upon big cities
and hear thundering trains
and I can feel soft snowflakes
falling upon my face

I watch lights flash on
filling the world with cheer
and I wonder what you would say
if you were still here

I loved hearing you speak
even after your voice was gone
and I loved how your face lit up
when we told stories until dawn

I remember when you saw your name in lights
and you continued to keep thanking me
but deep down I knew
the truth, you could clearly see

You were my inspiration
my starring piece
but I’d give back every recognition
to be able to extend your lease

That next pair of lungs was borrowed
as was so much more
but after that day
the fight was worse than before

Your eyes closed as I fought for my breath
and you slipped away into sweet, sweet death.

Selfish

I am a selfish person
I enjoy security
I like to know my future,
What is coming up ahead of me.
I am reasonably scared
Of what time holds
Full of silent surprises
Which I am not ready for.
There are events hiding out
Waiting for me
My reactions forever quiet.
How will I handle myself?
The world may never know.
But all I need is stable ground
And life doesn’t work that way
Like everyone tells you
“Life is not fair”
It spins you and twirls you
Never asking for your hand.
I am a selfish person
I enjoy snowfall and hot tea
And I like having you close to me.

Growing up a writer

Growing up a writer isn’t easy. None of my parents (I have three – mother, father, stepfather) have an out-of-the-box thought process, they don’t have that creative mind. So it can be difficult to get across my points much of the time, because I will be using concepts they don’t quite grasp. Being a writer has also turned me into an extremely emotional person. Not in the sense that I am too sensitive, but in a way that I can feel all things around me, I can understand others emotions. It is a burden and a blessing all at once.

With my parents being business managers, engineers, and IT computer analyzers, they weren’t exactly too keen on the idea of me being a writer, nor were they very fond of the fact that I was absolutely atrocious at anything math related. They wanted a daughter with huge aspirations who would go farther than they did, a daughter who would be a lawyer or a doctor. Well, I know for a fact I won’t be practicing medicine anytime soon, but I did consider law for a while. That’s when the burden of being an emotional person came in – I realized that I would become much too attached to those I would be working for, and the job would emotionally ruin me. So that’s not happening either.

But writing, oh my, I cannot express enough my love for it. The way letters flow together to form words which in turn create sentences and then come together to form a story… it is the most beautiful concept. One that most people overlook. Writers, however, they understand it, they see the wonder in it and use it to build their own stories. That’s what I wanted to do.

No one really believed me when I said I would grow up to be an author. I was always pushed away from the idea, and was taught how to do jobs in business or communications. My love for writing intensified when I found journalism. It was amazing to me, to be able to get out other people’s stories with my own words. I loved it. Yet it was put down very quickly by my so-called “support system” because journalists are not known for making money.

Now, I understand that my family wants me to live a financially stable life like the one I grew up in, and be able to have a family without worrying about how dinner will be put on the table. I get it. But writing is my passion, my first true love, and I cannot live without it.

I don’t believe I will go into college dead set on being a writer. My mind is open to what my career path will be, especially in business fields. If I could just find a job which combines writing into it, then I am sure I could fall in love with it. I will not give up the one thing I have had since I was a young child for the social concept of money. That is just not how I want to live my life.