Only The Beginning

One of the many things that keep me awake at night, when the lights are off, my window is halfway open, and I can hear the cars as they pass by, or the distance sound of walking, is my potential. My potential keeps me up at night.

One of the many fears I hold is that I will grow well-educated, capable, brilliantly promising, with many choices, and I will stand and stare at the brim of my feet, and take a step back.

Sylvia Plath once wrote that her life onced played out in front of her, as a giant fig tree. Every fig was a symbol of what kind of life she could lead. As she saw herself crouching under the fig tree, starving because she couldn’t choose one, knowing she would loose all the others, the figs started falling, crippling, rotting, all around her.

Growing up in my family, I understood the concept that I was not supposed to lead out an extraordinary life from an early age, no matter how extraordinary your mind and soul seem to be. I’m to go to college nearby, marry, have children. This, however, was the main reason why I was determined to do otherwise.

I understand my potential, there’s a seed in my head, planted a long time ago, growing as the size of bones grow as well. Expanding. This seed can flourish to greater measures beyond predictions, or I could keep it in my head, growing just well enough to shape who I am. Who I’m going to be.

The feeling that cannot be seen or touched, the feeling of wasted potential, consumes me, as well enough, I understand that my potential can only be used if i am open to growth, to expansion, for the seed to grow. With little holding me back, I look into the future of who i am, and fear the great darkness that i always seem to carry around, that wasted potential, that the dream I have will be excruciatingly close, almost, and i will stand there and stare at the brim of my feet, and i will take a step back.

By: Farah Bassyouni