Christmas BREAK!
Today marks the official start of the 11-day end-of-the-year break
we've all been waiting for. Lots of my friends aimed to relax during the
break; some went home to chill as soon as school let out and others
left for vacation days before.
I, however, chose to go to a track meet after school, in spite of the crummy weather and my swollen ankle and the fact that Christmas is in two days. I did it not because I had to, but because I chose to.
I walked home from school after the race, though it was dark and raining. Yesterday was winter solstice, the shortest day of the year, so tonight the 6:30 sky looked like a 9:00 sky. I didn't have to walk home; the bus could've given me a ride if I asked it to. But I chose to go home on my own, because I can. I don't ask others to do something that I have the ability to do myself. It was only a 20 minute walk between school and home. I wanted to see if I could endure a 20 minute walk on a rainy night. I liked to challenge myself like that, knowing that I'll feel like a badass when I finish. I chose to walk on the unpaved sidewalk instead of the nice, clean path on the other side. I leaped across piles of rocks and leaves, stepped in countless puddles, and allowed the accumulated rainwater from the trees to pour on my head. I'm not trying to romanticize a petty situation; that's just how everything was going through my mind. I can be overly dramatic. My socks were soaked along with my shoes, which was discomforting. My favorite Smith's Workwear jacket was being ruined. I felt miserable. I reminded myself that it could be much worse. I could be hit by the train as I crossed the train tracks, which I had to do to reach my house, and death is the absolute worst...or is it?
I still liked to play out crazy imaginary scenes in my head, of things that I could never and would never do. I could've stood in the train tracks and end my suffering right then. But that's the easy way out. That's disgraceful. I would never do that, because if I did, I have failed. Conceded. Surrendered. I have failed my goals, failed my family, and failed LIFE if I die.
And I would never allow myself to fail.
Sure, failing is an inevitable step in reaching success. Nobody makes no mistakes; it's a part of life, and the only way to gain experience and wisdom. I remember the saying "failure is the key/mother/path to success" being taught all the time during my childhood. But this maxim is more of a way to get us back up after failing, rather than an excuse to let ourselves fail. You always try your absolute hardest in everything you do, then if you still fail, you remember that it's okay and you keep going. Then what should be considered "failure", if every mistake only leads to success? Giving up. Quitting. Avoiding responsibility. That's my definition of "fail", and I hate doing that. Because as long as your will to work until the end is steadfast, there is always hope, a chance for dreams to realize. Any possibility disappears immediately following the act of giving up.
I, however, chose to go to a track meet after school, in spite of the crummy weather and my swollen ankle and the fact that Christmas is in two days. I did it not because I had to, but because I chose to.
I walked home from school after the race, though it was dark and raining. Yesterday was winter solstice, the shortest day of the year, so tonight the 6:30 sky looked like a 9:00 sky. I didn't have to walk home; the bus could've given me a ride if I asked it to. But I chose to go home on my own, because I can. I don't ask others to do something that I have the ability to do myself. It was only a 20 minute walk between school and home. I wanted to see if I could endure a 20 minute walk on a rainy night. I liked to challenge myself like that, knowing that I'll feel like a badass when I finish. I chose to walk on the unpaved sidewalk instead of the nice, clean path on the other side. I leaped across piles of rocks and leaves, stepped in countless puddles, and allowed the accumulated rainwater from the trees to pour on my head. I'm not trying to romanticize a petty situation; that's just how everything was going through my mind. I can be overly dramatic. My socks were soaked along with my shoes, which was discomforting. My favorite Smith's Workwear jacket was being ruined. I felt miserable. I reminded myself that it could be much worse. I could be hit by the train as I crossed the train tracks, which I had to do to reach my house, and death is the absolute worst...or is it?
I still liked to play out crazy imaginary scenes in my head, of things that I could never and would never do. I could've stood in the train tracks and end my suffering right then. But that's the easy way out. That's disgraceful. I would never do that, because if I did, I have failed. Conceded. Surrendered. I have failed my goals, failed my family, and failed LIFE if I die.
And I would never allow myself to fail.
Sure, failing is an inevitable step in reaching success. Nobody makes no mistakes; it's a part of life, and the only way to gain experience and wisdom. I remember the saying "failure is the key/mother/path to success" being taught all the time during my childhood. But this maxim is more of a way to get us back up after failing, rather than an excuse to let ourselves fail. You always try your absolute hardest in everything you do, then if you still fail, you remember that it's okay and you keep going. Then what should be considered "failure", if every mistake only leads to success? Giving up. Quitting. Avoiding responsibility. That's my definition of "fail", and I hate doing that. Because as long as your will to work until the end is steadfast, there is always hope, a chance for dreams to realize. Any possibility disappears immediately following the act of giving up.
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