Myself

Walking up the stage, I look back to my past. The people cheer at my sides while I wonder what would have happened if he hadn't pushed. If he hadn't given me an ultimatum, maybe I wouldn't be here. Here about to give a speech to a million people. They asked me what had driven me to share my stories, what made me want to write. Could it have been him, or was I meant to do this? Hah! 'meant,' my ass. I made this life.

 Ten Years Ago: When Everything Was Wrong

'To live without a purpose to pursue is like having no life at all.' I had heard it all my life, from self-help books to the highest institutions. I tried to find mine, I did. Still, it wasn't enough. Every club, every organization, every subject, it was all the same. Trying to find a purpose brought me to where I am now.

One day, 24 hours, to find the hobby I would practice my whole life. Father had really pulled it there even mom couldn't convince him. I knew why he did it. I knew he disapproved of my club hopping, but what could I do? Basketball didn't do it, nor did Theather, or Orchestra, or Robotics. I knew I had to stop, yet I couldn't. Something out there was telling me to continue, to keep trying. I wondered if the world hated me, why it would give me those feeling when everything I did turned out to be some stupid fling. 

 I got it, though. After all the money my parents had spent on my hobbies, I couldn't blame them. I wished I could have been who he wanted me to be. If only I had been born more confident, hardworking, logical. But I wasn't.

 In the end, I gave up. Played right into dad's game. He wasn't bothered about the cost at all. What did bother him was that I didn't want to follow his path. I didn't want to be some stupid investor in the stock market. I wanted something else... something more significant.

 I knew I had to choose, but I couldn't. I was paralyzed, being pulled into a thousand different directions. Between my insecurities, finding a purpose, and wondering if my father was right, I considered taking my life a thousand times. Nothing could cure the numbness in my heart. I couldn't recognize myself anymore.

Scared to live but scared to die.

I was lost, and it killed me. 'What if I choose the wrong thing? What if I humiliate myself?' The questions drowned me little by little. It wasn't just a hobby like before, this time, I had to commit, and that's what I was most afraid of. Commitment, sacrifice, responsibility, those were the things I was terrified of. I was a spoiled brat, after all. I hoped something would give me the answer, not that it would happen. Deep down, I knew that nothing was going to come in out of the sky and give me all the answers to my life, but I just hoped that maybe... maybe there was. I would always hear people saying they found their purpose, and it was the best thing in the world. So why couldn't it happen to me? That's where I was wrong... 

They didn't find a purpose; they committed to it. Any of the hobbies I dissed as a fling could have been my purpose. I just had to commit to it. Did I make my choice? Nope, my father got away with his game. I studied finance for five years and became one of the best investors in the world. Still, I felt like something was missing. Went back to my old habits and let life pass me by. No friends, no memories, life went by in automatic. If you ask me a question about anything that happened at that time, I will probably not know the answer. 

How did I get out? Sacrificing, letting go of my insecurities, learning that there's only one person that can decide my value. ME. Also, remembering. Remembering the fun times I had when I was a child, when I had no doubts, no constraints. When I would make 'movies' with my cousins just because it was fun, not because of money or fame, just for fun.

After the death of my mother, I realized life is short. That if I worry too much about what other people think of me, life will pass by. Her death made me realize that being alive is about being true to yourself. That's how I started writing, being true to myself...

I left the stock market and went on to write my feelings. Millions of copies were sold, yet it wasn't the fame but the comments on how I had changed people's life what really fulfilled my soul. For the first time in my life, I wasn't automatic. New blood cursed through my veins, and nothing seemed monotonous anymore. 

 Present:

Standing in the center of the stage, the lights shining over my figure, I know the answers to their questions. Looking over the crowd, I no longer have a shred of doubt.

"It wasn't my father, luck nor god. I did it. I drove myself to want to write. The knowledge that I'm the only one living my life and that only I can share my story." The crowd sheers at my words, clapping and praising all over the stadium. Ten years ago, this might have seemed impossible, but now there's nothing I can't do. In the beginning, I wanted to be somebody, now I want to be myself.

Author's Note: For the people that sometimes hold back on their feedback in fear of being too harsh, you don't have to be afraid here. 'Harsh' is not in my vocabulary, so say whatever you want. Also, I'm taking requests for any idea you want me to write. For the requests, I'll either publish them here or on my website.