• I have always been a volatile person. not fickle, just volatile. If right now, I'd love volleyball, the next thing you'd know, I'd be obsessed over ice hockey. It just seems like I can't settle of what I'd like to do. Even choosing my vocation that would suffice my volatile self is going to be a tough task to accomplish.

    First, I wanted to be a dentist. I loved how they wear funny gloves and sit on rolling chairs. That was before. Now, I want to become a dermatologist, before dreaming of being a pediatrician, that is! Later, I might dream of becoming soldier in the midst of a bloody war. Only God knows what I would end up with for a job. It just seems like I don't want to end up doing the same, boring routine every single day of my life. Then, I have decided, if there's one thing you could closely relate to me, it's simple. A box of crayons, period.

    Since life can be so boring, I'd like to color it. Sometimes, it can be s dull as gray, or as bright as yellow. You can't just settle coloring a picture with only one color, that would be monotoned. In other words, boooring! Now, it's all in the decision of whether I want it light or dark. My life was never complete without mistakes, though. From stumbling through my own mistakes, I learn, so that the next time I face it, I'd know how to stand on my own feet and handle it by myself. It's just like coloring. You can never redo what has been done. You can never erase it. But you can always make the next part better. you could also sketch before you start. In other words, think before you act.

    Now, there's this other thing about crayons. They aren't as hard as concrete. They are very brittle and could break easily. Fragile, I should say. So, what do we do when crayon gets broken? Repair it, of course. On the contrary, you could leave it alone and throw it away. I, for one, have been 'broken' in times of despair. Who I need are the considerate people who knows how to fix me.

    So, it's clearly stated that my life is the cousin of a little box of crayons. And I want it like that. It describes my loud, random self. Now, I know that somehow, other people's lives are like these, somehow. I'd like to continue life s it is, but I can't settle for one thing. I don't want to bore myself to death. I just can't stand to be the monotoned type of girl. 'Cause I want to be random, like something you'd pick out of a crayon box; like something you wouldn't hesitate to enjoy for the rest of your life no matter if it's as sour are unripe oranges, or as sweet as ripe ones.