Freelance Writing

I never intended to become a free lance writer.

In fact I still don’t know if I could do it. You’re your own boss, you manage your own schedule and your constantly looking for work. Is that a job I can do? I’m honestly not sure. If I don’t try at all though I know I’m going to regret not following my dreams. I love writing. I love writing about love. I love writing about space, about people, about fairies and animals. Writing is such an open world that we’ve barley scratched the surface of and to me that’s so unbelievably fascinating.

I binged watched Steven Universe and one of the quotes that really stood out to me was how human lives were all so complicated. Yet they were so simple. The sights we see, the sounds we here and the lives we live are all so similar and so different. That’s absolutely incredible.

Follow your dreams. Be happy. Love yourself




When I was seventeen years old I would find myself in the hallway staring at a picture of my brother in his Military uniform, my reflection sitting beside him, and I would wonder when I would make my family proud. I was the youngest and still hadn’t accomplished as nearly as much as my older brother had. Relatives would ask me when I would be getting a job or when I would be getting married, starting a family, or even learning how to drive. All things my brother already had under his belt. I couldn’t help but find myself thinking He was the skyscraper and i was merely the shadow it cast.

Thats not when it started either. I entered high school right after he graduated. I entered the same program he had been in for four years, and immediately the teacher asked if I had any relatives in the corp. I nodded and said “Patrick”. His eyes opened wide and he said “You’re Patrick’s sister? Hey it’s Patrick’s sister!” For the next two years I was know as “Patrick’s little sister” If I performed badly I was asked how my brother would think. If I performed well I was told that I was following in my brothers footsteps. Nothing I did was of my accord. Everything was because of my heritage towards my older brother.

When I was even younger and I would show my makeshift books to my parents, they would read them and toss them to the side. Yet when a child my brothers age published a book at twelve, he was the one offered the encouragement to pursue writing, and I was left with a pen and paper wondering if I was ever going to praised for my own accomplishments. As much as I despised being compared, being forgotten, and how much I would beg for attention of my own I would give so much to be where things were so much simpler.

My brother is merely twenty one. My brother has three kids, a wife, and still lives at home. My brother is trying his best and doing everything he can to support his little ones and his wife but one man can only do so much. My brother isn’t as happy as he used to be. Now instead of trying to catch up to what he has and everything hes accomplished I find that everyone wants me to be completely different. My parents no longer say “Look what your brother has accomplished” and began saying “Please don’t end up like your brother” I find myself trying to be the child that learned from their siblings mistakes instead of looking up to them and finding that I could do great things too.

Looking back the people and family I look up to are now people my mother never wants me to be. My aunt who worked so long to go through college and get the degree she wanted, and is now on depression medication and fighting multiple diseases. My grandma, who held my hand and walked me to school everyday, who raised five kids and not once said she regret having any of them, stopped fighting for her life because her sons wouldn’t take the time out of their day to make sure she was okay. My mom, who was raised with no father because of a terrible accident, now seems bitter and wishes daily that she hadn’t had kids or had at least waited longer to even get married. I’m standing in the shadows of everyone’s failed attempts at being happy.

I light my incense, grab a pen and pencil, and try doing what I love. Because I’m not just their shadow of what could have been. I’m not my mothers desires. I’m not my brother, I’m not my aunt, and I am not my grandma. I’m not going to look at the world and pity the people who wasted time wondering what could have been. My grandma was a strong, beautiful woman. My aunt is so smart and so successful and I am so proud of her. My mom is so strong willed and so able minded that she could do basically everything. My brother is only twenty one and he’s in the army, he’s married to the woman he loves, and he has three beautiful children that smile and brighten up everyones day. Yet that leaves one question standing, who am I?
I am a writer. I am an artist. I am strong. I am building my life up and nothing anyone says to me is ever going to break it down. Because I am not the shadow of a my brother. I am not the shadow of my independent mother. I am not the shadow of my deceased grandmother. I am so many things. I am smart. I am creative. I am fast. I am so much more than anyone ever believes me to be. I am going to continue to be so much more and I’m going to make myself proud. My life is and will never be about my family’s mistakes. I am not my brothers failures. I am my own accomplishments. I am me. Nothing and no one is ever going to change that.

Little bit of advice, you aren’t so bad either. You’re not anyones shadow. You are your own person. So get out there and make something absolutely incredible.

Salt water


From what I can recall seawater promotes health, pushes goals forward, and even has some magic to it. Yet I continued to recoil from the mistress, as she leaned forward and brushed my thighs. There were plenty of people around me to make sure that if I in fact do trip and fall into the ocean for no one to find me then someone could stop me maybe. Hopefully. I sighed, turned around, and headed back to the shaded area where my friends reside.

A few of them smiled at me as I came up, holding up a can of soda and cheering, and I took my place next to my best friend. He grinned at me and I ruffled his short black hair. “Having fun?” He asks me. I nod and take a sip of his drink. He pauses for a brief moment before reaching over and touching my hair. “You haven’t gone in the water?” He asks. “No” He sighs and pats me on the head. “Come on. I’ll show you things are going to be okay” He stands up, ands takes my arm dashing towards the wide ocean. “Wait!” I try to say but hes set on bringing me to that ocean.

We arrive in the area I was before and I find myself in an even bigger issue. Turn around and ignore his attempts of helping me, or take his hand and face what’s eating away at me. He smiles at me, showing off his pearly white teeth, and I can’t say no. I take his hand and bring myself to step further into the water. It reaches my waist and I shiver, but my best friend is holding my hand and I find my self marveling at the colors. Something about the water seemed so pure, the blue so bright, and the sand so soft.

My best friend splashed some water over to me, and I did the same. We began laughing and giggling and splashing, saltwater hitting our skin. I found myself diving in to get my hair and face in there, as if the earth itself was bathing me, and washing away the mundane worries that plagued me. It was refreshing to have them sweep away from me even if it was only for those few moments I spent in the water. What had once been something so cold and foreign felt warm and just like home. The mistress of the sea hugged me with every wave, ran her fingers through my hair, and left kisses on my skin.

We’re enjoying ourselves so much we don’t notice how close the sun is to going down. I find myself in a different place than when I came down to the water again. Leaving was becoming hard when I found myself so comfortable and happy. A light punch in the arm brought me back to my sense, and I smiled. “Come on, we can come another time. You got someone to go home to” I nodded, stepping out of the water and onto the sand.