I believe in the comfort of my bed,

the embracing warmth of my blanket,

the messy labyrinth of books and clothes through which only I can navigate,

the prison for my body, but freedom for my mind,

the leathery skin of my swivel chair, from which my bad posture was born,

the pestering tick of my clock, as it condemns me for procrastinating,

the safe haven I call my room,

where all my worries drift away,

and I can wake up ready to start another day.

But I don’t believe in predestination;

I’m not a puppet with strings;

I’m my own master with the power to shape my own future.

I believe in happiness that money can’t buy,

I believe in perseverance that will never fail to pay off,

I believe in friendships built on unconditional trust, hope that keeps me going when times are tough,

ambition that gives rise to limitless success, and compassion that encourages universal progress.

And I believe in myself;

my dad always tells me, “where there’s a will, there’s a way”;

I try and live true to that every day;

people always tell me what I can and cannot do;

they seal my fate with superglue;

they fortify the mental fortress separating me from my aspiration;

they cloud my mind and suppress my imagination;

but no task is too hard when I make up my mind, and giving up is never the answer;

to give up is to give in to the peer pressure and support the non-believers;

but that’s what makes me different—

I believe.