If you were to take a peek into my family home during my childhood, you would be able to see me with my mothers legal pads, stolen from her desk, scrawling out my dreamscapes, hopes, and wishes. When I would upset her, you would find me writing apology letters on those same papers. And when I was really motivated, I would be writing persuasive essays for a family dog or a new bike. Writing was always something that soothed me, and that allowed me to speak my mind without the interruption of my family and the loudness of the world. I lost my appreciation for this outlet along the way, getting wrapped up in not so good situations, friends, and family. Up until last year, I was convinced that I was bound to be something that I was not. I applied to Michigan State University under the College of Engineering to become a biomedical engineer. I’ve never been great at math or science. It took me years into my teenage-hood to realize that the path that I was headed down was one that was carved for me by the expectations of others and not by myself.
Being born into a family of wealth on one side and poverty on the other made it difficult for me to choose what I wanted to do with my life. On one side, there were doctors and lawyers, and on the other, gas station clerks and restaurant servers. In a way, this conditioned me to look for monetary value in the things that I wished to accomplish. One thing I noticed despite the differences in each side of my family was that neither of them were happy. Lawyers and doctors and businessmen were constantly talking about the hatred of their jobs and of the corporate world, and the waitresses and clerks constantly talked about the lack of money and rest. This realization came to me a couple of months before I started college: I couldn’t live my life like that. I could not allow myself to do things that I had no interest in simply for stability. So, I wrote about it. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed putting my thoughts onto paper and emptying the filing cabinets of my mind, not caring what came out or how it did so, but simply just writing.
I had a teacher in high school that pushed me into this realization more than she may ever understand. I should’ve known that writing was my calling simply because all of my favorite teachers, mentors, and role-models were those that loved stories, books, and literature in general. While writing my IB Extended Essay in high school, I came to fall in love with writing again. The planning, outlining, and drawing connections. All of it was beautiful to me, despite what I was writing. There was a sense of therapy in writing for me. She had pushed me beyond limits that I didn’t even know that I had, drawing conclusions and realizations that I never knew were possible, not only within my writing, but within myself as well.
I remember reflecting on my childhood, with high school graduation right around the corner, prom, college, and thinking about all of the things that I had learned about myself and the world around me. I remember pulling out my laptop and simply writing. I began to draft chapters and titles and stories that reflected who I am as a person and the experiences that I have had. Allowing myself to create a world that I have seen in the past, but also the world that I would like to see in the future, opening my eyes to different perspectives of life as a whole and the things typically unseen. Writing was my music, my art, and I began to draft my first book.
I changed my major to English Literature. Thanks to this realization, I picked up my favorite books again and began writing down my thoughts on the world around me. I found a love that had been lost through the stressors of life. Writing and reading allows me to not only reflect on my thoughts, experiences, and connections, but also allows me to create new worlds when anxiety gets too high or the world seems too loud. I see myself in the characters as they fight challenges, defy the laws of reality, and most importantly, grow. I could not imagine a life without both writing and reading, a life without books and stories that teach me things about myself and others that I wouldn’t have known otherwise. The path that I am headed down is one that I eagerly accept and absorb into my being with every essay written, every article posted, and every character created. I could not imagine a life without it, and for that I am thankful.