Hi, Dragonfly
Dear Diary,
A dragonfly landed on my windowsill yesterday. I was in the shower, listening to “Say Yes” by Floetry, when I saw it take its last breath. I struggled to set it back on its feet, but it seemed like it wanted to lie down and rest before it died. I cried because I wanted to know why she decided to die on my windowsill. I felt helpless. I wanted to set her free so she could fly again.
I’ve been praying more recently. I’ve been asking myself if God is a woman; she must be black like me. In my mind, only a black woman can constantly see pain and still strive to create beauty out of life’s hardships. That’s all I want to do as a writer.
When I was younger, I knew I wanted to help people, but most importantly, I wanted to heal them. I abandoned medicine, but I knew that words could reach anyone. Yet, as a writer, I often struggle to find the right words for myself. I’m 23, a writer, a dreamer with no intention of being caged by the world. I don’t aspire to be a wife or to work in one place for 40 years without a purpose. I want to be free to live and create. I’m happy that my throat finally feels open to scream my dream.
New can be scary. New can be peaceful. New can feel like a blank slate. She’s happy and has become the woman she’s always dreamed of. But who will she meet next? Who knows how many people she’ll fall in love with in this lifetime? Who knows how many connections she’ll make? All she can hope is that someone hears one poem and falls in love again. But as she writes for others, she wonders what the ending to her story is. We write the stories of our lives each time we take a breath, but there are so many moments where it feels like fate is inevitable. Those moments in our lives that make us think someone else is orchestrating our every move. I hope my story ends beautifully and every dream comes true. The little voice in my head says I am right. I pray every day that I don’t end up like the dragonfly I saw yesterday.
This morning, my windowsill was empty. I wonder where she went. I’d like to think she’s flying somewhere new and is happier than when she took her last breath.
xoxo,
maeko