it's late one night up at camp. my campers are piled into a circle on the floor, giggling and talking. the air smells of slightly burnt buttered popcorn. no matter how hard we try, one of the microwaves just burns everything that's put inside. the feeling of dirt and sand is glued to the bottom of my feet. i watch the girls and answer questions thrown at me as my hands move without thought over the bracelet i'm working on. i look at abby and i see her swallow as she fiddles with the paper and markers she brought for a third time.
her voice is lost amongst the voices of young girls talking about the day. my voice rises above the others, and abby shoots me a grateful look as the chatter dies down to an excited murmur. dalia is soft and quiet like she always is, observing through tired eyes. kate giggles like one of the campers, but manages to shush the ones nearest to her and looks up attentively. the light in the cabin is bright and warm and makes me feel safe even though i know that there is nothing but darkness and a swarm of bugs inches behind the logged walls.
abby explains with a voice that is full of secrets. the campers are bubbly for a while, then the room slowly silences as they realize that this is a night to be serious. abby hands out the paper and tells us all to rip it into sixteen pieces. as the room is filled with the sound of ripping paper and whispers, she explains that the pieces are grouped into four rows of four. each row has a different significance.
1- values
2- most important people
3- most important material items
4- most important nonmaterial items
we write down four items in each category amidst chatter. brooke wants to know what grace wrote down. ashley smiles as she points me to one of her slips of paper. i smile absentmindedly, but focus on thinking about what really is most important to me.
i think of my values. i think of my morals. i think of the people i can tell everything, the people that i know love me regardless. i think of what makes my heart start to race if i can't find. i think of what i long for at night, what i want more than ever to grace my life. i think and my hands move slower than my brain. i am one of the last people to finish.
i sit back on my heels and look at what i've laid out in front of me. this is me split into four different categories, four different subsets, sixteen different things that make up who i am.
then abby says, "take them away."
at first, it's gut-wrenchingly easy. i know what i can live without, and carefully fold up each slip of paper out of respect. i look down and i still know who i am.
then abby says, "take them away."
i watch as the people in my life leave, one by one. my most prized possessions are carefully folded up and discarded, never to have existed in my life. my values are sliced in half. i have to force myself to take something away. the room is dead silent and i don't have the time to talk because damn, this is harder than i thought. i look down and i see shreds of a person that i hardly recognize to be myself. i hold the ones that were removed in one hand, torn between what i am.
then abby says, "take them away."
my heart is racing. hands shaking, i clench the slips of paper in my fists. i look down at the slip of paper remaining. i refuse to cry. i won't cry. not in front of the girls. my vision spirals into the words chalked onto the piece of paper in front of me. my mother, gone. my cats, never to have existed. even my faith is gone. the thing that held me together and tore me apart, that has been there since the beginning. the reason why i sit on the floor of my cabin that smells like burnt popcorn.
one word to define me. and i don't even have it.
purpose.
all my life i've been asking "why?" in a world that only wants me to ask "how?".
everyone tells me where my life will lead. since my parents pushed me gently at the doors of my elementary school with a backpack strapped tight around my shoulders. when i drew picture after picture and everyone talked amongst themselves with bright eyes and a fond smile." i got older and the weight on my shoulders grew heavier and the words i had been hearing my whole life about what i needed to do wore me down until i crumbled.
life is seemingly just one step of education after another. after highschool, my purpose is supposed to be college. but what comes after that? what the hell am i supposed to do, broke and alone, expected to work for the rest of my life? is work what life really is about? collecting little slips of paper that we believe are worth more than ourselves? i hate the feeling of money between my fingers because i know that someone would end my life in a heartbeat for those green pieces of paper. but what else can i do but struggle to collect them just to exist? my purpose shouldn't involve money. but in this world, it has to.
i don't know my purpose. all i know is that every time abby told me to take a slip of paper away, that one remained.
my purpose is who i am. so let me know if you figure out where i put it down. i know it's out there.
i know it's out there.
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