Introduction

Aamna Rao

01/25/2020

            I am a 26 years old married woman, a non-traditional student in senior year of college who aims to become an efficient journalist. My short height and round cheeks play their best role to make me appear younger. I am not sure if I should consider it a compliment or a flaw. I am fond of doing photography of everything I see. I love watching films. I had several goals in life and I have achieved some, struggling for some and could not achieve some goals at all. Fortunately, or Unfortunately, I have not figured out my life’s aim yet. In fact, I am living an aimless life, completely unaware about the purpose of my existence but I am learning. I believe it is important to have an aim in life. It does not matter whether it is constructing something as great as building “statue of liberty” or as kind as helping an old lady to cross the road or making your little four-year-old brother laugh. Little things make me happy. 

            There’s a vast difference in between the me they see and the me who I see and the me I am. So many chains I have broken so many remains but deep inside I know I cannot escape. I cannot escape from the society where I have come from. I will always be judged and would be required to fit in. No matter how strong the content is, it always seems vague without a structure to the world. Structures are important in life and even in writing. An unstructured writing is less likely to be published in the news media. If only my unreal legends could come into being. If only my imagination, my idealism could become the reality. I wish there were no territories in this world, and we could travel to any place we desire but I cannot deny the importance of check and balance and that there could be harmful consequences attached in not having boundaries.  

            I do not wish to sing a song of pity. I would rather speak my heart and my mind. I am not fearful to raise my voice, but I believe more in the strength of an argument is based on the quality of its reasoning rather than the pitch of its sound. It is so queer that I am so organized in my tasks, but my mind speaks in fragments. My scattered thoughts are all over the world map. I cannot blame them for being unfocused often nor would I blame these rational and irrational fears inside me. I wonder what this critical self that resides in us that scares us for the tinniest to the greatest of the things, for the known and the unknown. What are these thoughts or these feelings that often makes us feel incompatible to our surroundings? What are these thoughts that terrorizes us for not being good enough? Is this immense hair fall an alarming situation to alopecia? What a journalist without having a strong writing power? Would I be able to get a job? Will I ever improve? But a voice that keeps me moving have faith, so I keep walking.