my aspirations have always been consistent; from childhood to adolescence to the cusp of my formative years, i have been guided by the same principles and personal interests. 

i fondly remember my dreams of being a writer.  i remember the first instance when i was inspired to help people.  the former was when i wrote my first ‘love’ poem at 15 and the latter was when i spent every spare moment in high school enthralled in extracurricular activities.  i remember the peaceful refuge i took in writing in journals (every which on i still have today).  i remember the comfort and care that leading a student distress centre instituted in me.  i remember the love for every person who has befriended me, trusted me inspired me – instilling their wisdom in me.  i remember growing up and dreaming of a life filled with culture, music, community, writing and reading.  books, live bands, kind company and paper and pan is all i would need to be happy, fulfilled. 

the above was a path i thought i had set out on over 10 years ago.  however, somewhere between then and now i got distracted.  by the clutter.  by the loud noise.  i spent 4 years confused, pressured, exhausted, miserable, trapped, hurt and scared.  scared that i was lost; going in the completely wrong direction.

it wasn’t until calming things down, focusing on my inner self did i gain clarity.  i never lost sight of the type of person i wanted to be – i just let her hide away.  but in recent months as i am letting my favourite things return organically to my life i am beginning to see that shy little girl from 15 years unfold and grow; a playful game of peak-a-boo.

and that shy little girl is learning from the awkwardness of her youth – applying the maturity gained throughout yesteryear.  i am meeting this nicole again and how fun it has been in getting to know her.  there are many similarities between her and i.  some significant difference yet her zest for life has carried forward as has her love for the people who blissfully fill her life.

a conversation with myself?  perhaps.  but i never thought i would meet that little girl again – the girl who adventurously tried to write, got lost in a book, held someone’s hand and found release front row at a rock show.  perplexed and complex, slow to figure out her emotions – she was aggressively ambitious while quietly struggling in being proud of herself.

so yes, meeting myself 15 years later is fascinating.  only now i am more sure of where i am going.  promising not to lose those things that are intrinsically me.

but endlessly growing, forever i will be.