Aim. Shoot. Succeed.
Bow parts thoroughly tucked within a black bag as arrows clank around in a white quiver. Smooth and solid, the bow parts almost come together on their own as I stretch the arms to snap the string in place. Swiftly placing an arrow on the rest, my focus shifts to the tip of the arrow and the target. Tension in the string creates a drawback as my muscles flex to accommodate to the tug. My left eye closes to steady my sight, my breath stabilizes itself to steady my chest, my arms relax to steady my grip, my legs lock to steady my back: my whole body works as one. My mind is silent and soon I become the arrow. Focused and ready to shoot, the journey to my destination is just as important as the finale. Flying by the arrow rest, I hurdle towards my target in pride and anticipation of greatness. I miss. Disappointment falls over me but soon pushes me to become another arrow and to readjust every move until I get bulls-eye. I've been doing this consistently for almost four years now and I love it just as much as I did the first time I picked up a bow. Flashback to second grade: I'm at summer camp with friends all around and we had archery as an activity. I was stunned at the power and strength simply holding a bow made me feel. The heaviness and size of the bow created a warrior type feeling that stops you in your tracks. But moving from Texas to California created hassles in my life resulting in forgetting the sharpness of a string trying to escape my fingers and the tranquility it brought to me. Fast forward to freshman year: stopping dance lessons and moving to a new house made it so I had more free time thus allowing me to begin archery again. Since then, I've been caught with a bow and arrows every Saturday even if--more so, especially if-- I should be doing some sort of work. So, I guess you could say I like archery.