A poem by Heidi Dischler |

Then

All I remember is walking to class, going home, studying, waking up, walking to class.

There wasn’t really much to remember anyway. 

They told me, listen, learn, repeat, spit out this textbook as if it was the history of your own life. 

I couldn’t do that. 

Then

I thought that I wanted that.

I thought being successful in a high-profile career would make me happy.

So, I pursued and fought and tried so hard to be a part of that field.

I tried so hard to be happy.

Then

I remember driving and rolling down my windows, trying to get a breath of air….

Trying to get a breath….

My shoulders felt heavy, weighed down by what I thought would make me whole. 

I felt tattered, stained, tainted: the remnants of a broken dream.

Now

I change my focus to different things. 

Newer things that I’ve known and loved for so long, but didn’t think I could succeed in. 

I let my imagination run away from me and it spreads to every corner, every crevice. 

It spreads like rivers running into oceans. 

Now

I write like there’s no tomorrow.

I use my mind, my words, my voice and I want them all to be heard. 

Writing assignment? Sure, that’s fine, let me just finish this two weeks early. 

Give me papers, essays, poems: I want to use my voice.

Now

Right now, I roll down the windows to my car, feel the cold air filling my lungs.

The music blasts in my ears, my mind, my soul. 

Now, right now, I can breathe.

I can hear the words, “This is what you’ll do for your whole life,” and not be afraid: I am happy.