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My own, my mother's then and when she was my age, and all the strangers around me who didn't seem so strange anymore.We all have to go through our own lives and our own challenges, but just because we have our own lessons to learn doesn't mean we are alone.Time progressed, however, and dirt, guitar chords, and conversations eventually covered the canvas of the shoes.
I sit in front of my piano for hours, copying the rhythm of until it feels right.
I'll never tire of hearing another tell me how they're feeling without using any words at all and letting it become part of me.
In college, where everyone works on discovering "who they are" or what their place is in the world, I know I can provide not only diversity of thought, but can educate people through my own stories on how crucial it is to maintain an open-minded ideology towards the world and an individual's power to change it.
On one hot night in a dark room at the heart of Boston, I became friends with 19,580 people in one single moment.
Or at least that's how my bike-tire-greased, highlight-yellow, heel-cap-ripping-at-the-seams Chuck-Taylors are supposed to be colored.
Freshman year, I tried so hard to keep them that pristine, popular M7652-000 color.
Sandalwood, my friends and I call it--a late-night, post-fast food, teen-angst polluted lake.
Sandalwood is the cosmos and the meaning of God and the Sisyphus-like emotions that we discuss there.
She forced me to see the other side, forced me to make my own conclusions without the influence of my background or parents.
In Portland, opinions are liberally voiced, and it's similar in my community in Houston, except rather than an abundance of Lizzie Fletcher stickers it's "Come and Take It".