A man stumbled to his right as my friend dragged me towards hers. Chicago’s bright city lights dissipated to yellow patches that broke up the darkness as we found ourselves on a street that ran below Michigan Avenue.
Miriam began to tell me her story, how she immigrated into the United States as a married woman and struggled to find self-worth in her emotionally abusive marriage. The process of leaving was coupled with learning that she was worthy of good treatment, a belief she was not raised to embody.
Nothing I have been writing feels good enough lately. Call it a writer’s block, maybe a quality block, but the truth is, I have not been feeling great.
For a friend
I had just closed the bedroom door when I saw el dueño de la casa staring down at me with suspicion, “¿Ya pagaste?”. Did you pay already? He knew what sneaking out looked like.
“We need humanities students in the professional world to counterbalance the people who are there pretending to know.”
My wings had melted and, like Icarus, I fell— hard, fast, completely. And I found myself at the bottom of a pit as dark as night and as vivid as ice-cold water.
When turning ideas into change, remember: “Professional development is commonly like an S-track and not a straight line.”
“You have centralized something in your life, whether or not you know it. Let’s figure out what that is.”
“If I had to answer, ‘What am I?’, however, I would say I am American. I am this melting pot of values and cultures, and I now know that I do not have to choose between these things to know who I am.”