Day before Big Speech:
Today is November 14, 2018. Today my Professor has given me the assignment of writing a story/essay of some sort. We have to write an essay about a time where we gained something/someone and lost something/someone at the same time. It's exactly 3 pm, Class ended around 12:30 pm. And I’m here sitting at my desk in my dorm room ranting on about how I have no clue on how I am going to start or even write is crazy essay on because the Professor said it HAD to be true. So this is the beginning of the boring wonderful life God gave me the pleasure of calling mine.
It was like any other boring, college life filled day. Like any other day at San Jose State University in San Jose California. I had been sitting in my AP English class with 35 students, for me majoring in journalism just in case this basketball career everyone thinks I’m going to get doesn’t work out, since 9 am this morning. I was thinking about my twin brother Connor, since tomorrow makes exactly a year, to the day my brother passed away.
I bring my crazy, wandering, and mysterious mind back to class and focus on the professor that is finishing up with the lecture and starts telling us about our next writing assignment that we will have to prepare and read to the whole entire class. I think to myself “Will someone please gag me with a spoon.”
“I want you guys to write about a time in your lives when you gained something or someone and lost something or someone at the same time. It can be at any time in your life and about anything you want to write about. The only requirement I have, is that it has to be true. I feel like everyone should have had something like this happen to them in your life so far but if you haven't, stop by my office after class. Since there is a few minutes left of class, you can talk with your other classmates for ideas and inspiration.”
Thoughts filled my mind. “What the hell am I going to write about now? Talk about a real challenge. I’m ready for the challenge, kind of.” And “here comes the stress of writing this paper and going back home for break and getting ready for the big basketball game”.
“You have 24-hours to write this essay and present it tomorrow to the class.” Professor Nicholas said looking at all of us.
It was about 12 pm so we had a half an hour of class left so Professor Nicholas lets us brainstorm with other people around us. Kyler, Casey, and I just work together since we are side by side from one another.
“Do you have any idea what you are going to write this essay about?” Kyler says as he looks at me.
“I have no clue, Lucas you’re the writer in the group, do you know?” Casey jumped in and asked me.
“I’m not for sure just yet; this is a challenge for me. I’ve been through so much in my life. I will probably figure it out at midnight tonight and write it within an hour. Let’s just hope that’s not the case.” I say to both of them.
Before we know it, Professor Nicholas dismisses us from class and I head back to the dorm.
Which brings us up to speed with my current life of me sitting here at my small boring brown desk that my grandfather gave to me when I was younger in this awful pee yellow looking color of a bedroom, in a two bedroom, one full bathroom, kitchen/dining room, and living room, with my one and only male best friend, Kyler Collen. As of right now the dorm room is awfully quiet, and that’s just because Kyler, I call him Ky, is at work until 5. He had to work at 1 and we got out of class around 12:30.
As I sit here confused and let hours pass by, it’s now 4 pm. I’m lost and still struggling to find this topic. My mind is racing with many thoughts and I still have no clue where to start. I feel like I should clear my mind for a few minutes to hopefully come back to this computer and start typing up my story/essay. I close my eyes and I start to think about things that have happened in my life, I think about my mom, and the struggles she came through in her life, and how she has overcome so much. Then I think about Connor my twin brother, and about his life and how he always wanted to make a difference no matter where he went in life.
After clearing my head and thinking about my family. I finally realize the perfect time in my life. I finally know exactly what my topic is going to be for my essay. I feel so relieved. But the real question now is how am I going to start it? I don’t know why this is so hard for me. I write stories and poetry all the time and I don’t have this much trouble starting them or getting an idea in my head, today I feel like I finally found my challenge.
I’ve rewritten the opening sentence 5 times and I’m really struggling. For the first time in my life I’m actually worried I won’t be able to finish an assignment and not impress the people around me with my writing skills. It kind of breaks my heart, to know that I may actually fail at the one thing I thought I could do in a heartbeat. As I keep rewriting the beginning I finally found out how to start it and I start to write the rest of the story.
As I write I feel the emotions coming out of my body and onto the paper, it feels like I’m reliving every moment that I’m writing about and I go back in time to when this actually happened. In doing this, it floods my brain with emotions. I can feel the sadness that I once felt in the hospital, the worry; when I found out my brother was sick, the depression I felt when I lost my father and sister, and the doubt that I felt when I thought I wasn’t going to be able to be strong enough for the people around me.
I wipe my eyes a couple times from the tears that fall down my face. In that moment of writing about what happened in my life, remembering all the details and feeling all of the emotions. It feels like I’m actually reliving the catastrophic events all over again. This makes my body want to throw up, because I know that no matter how long I live for, I will never be able to go through that again.
And feeling that makes me worried even more. I know it’s not real and that it already happened. I know I’m writing about the past. But like all good writers say, “History sometimes repeats itself” and that’s the last thing I want to happen.
The memories, pain, sadness, anger, doubt, loneliness, depression, and worry, keep flooding my mind, but I push through the many emotions that my body is making me feel and keep on writing.
The creativity starts flowing through my body. When I write about something so personal, every nerve in my body ignites with sensitivity. I keep writing and writing. Wiping my eyes and continue to write then repeat. My mind wonders for a moment and thinks about what it would be like if what happened to us actually didn’t. How would our lives be different? Where would I be? What would I be doing? Would Connor still be here? What would he be doing? Would I still be in the same place I am today? I keep pushing through the tears and finish writing.
The next thing that happens is I remember Ky coming in and telling me I should go sleep on my bed and not my desk.