Attempts at a monologue

For our first coach groups today, we had to bring in three objects that told a bit about our personality. I grabbed two of the objects with ease: my sketching pencils and mi caja de cigarros de Nicaragua. The latter is where I keep a plethera of pictures, old letters, postcards, notes... As I sat there emptying the box of its contents, I stumbled upon an crinkled old sheet of paper. I carefully unfolded it and read its contents. On the long forgotten sheet, scribbled at the top in my handwriting, were the words "first attempt at a monologue"...I read on. Performed in front of my entire high school with Multico my senior year of high school, this monologue spells out the gray line between culture and religion, between family and personal beliefs.

In my hand lay a monologue, a snippet of my life, spelling out my first attempts at grappling with what I truly found important. Today, reading over words that had once taken incredible personal courage to write, and were an incredible personal feat to perform, I sat and thought about how far I have come in the past three years. While I still haven't found that perfect balance, and still have questions that remain unanswered, I know I've come a long way. That, my friends, is a good feeling.