So much more

Six short weeks and I'll be handed a piece of paper that is supposed to solve all of life's problems -- a college education hidden beneath an ink and pulp mixture. A thin sliver to represent the past four years, 8 semesters and countless hours of my life. Another sheet to slip between the folds of card stock, shuffled into a drawer in hopes of showing my worth by the words upon it. These words, all of these damn words mean so much. But what about what I actually did? But what about the people's live's I've impacted, and those who have impacted mine? These thin slips cannot fully emulate the past four years. They cannot show the struggles of anxiety and fear, or the late nights filled with tears over those not worth them. They cannot dull the ache from missing those important people who actually are important and they cannot hold the joy over the new important people that have been inserted in my life. These stacks of colored ink spell out what will be left once I'm gone, but they will not be able to breathe the life of what the words actually mean into the air. These thin slips of paper are what I'm supposed to hold close, to remind me of these things I've 'accomplished' within these years. That's not what I want to leave behind though. I don't want to die and leave behind a small pile of ash to be buried within the soils of favorite places, with the various papers littered with my so called life floating their way to be recycled. These fragile accomplishments can only mean so much and for so long.  I don't want WHO I am to be lost in WHAT I have done. I want to leave behind something stronger than syllables and synonyms. I want to leave behind the passion behind the pixels, the fire within the fury of the want.  When they empty my house, I want them to feel my presence, and the undying urge of passion that accompanies my soul. When the drawers are shaken free from their stiff locks, I want the folders to be filled with so many words that they cannot be ignored. But I don't want the words to be meaningless. I want the words to be proof of the faith I put into the world. The faith I put my will into, to make the world something for everyone. I want the words to be a reminder of it all, not the only record left of what supposedly made me who I am. I want the words to show that who I am was just as much as what I have done. I don't want the words to be meaningless to those who search them. I want them to be reminders of the things that left a real mark, a scorch upon the green sculpted world we are supposedly living in. I want the words to hold meaning, and not just letters to represent forgotten experiences. I don't want papers to make up my life. I want to make a life outside of the papers, a life that can stand the wind swept plains of change. I want my life to be remembered by the papers, not told by them. My degree is not me. I am so much more than that. I will be so much more than that.