I have never been very crafty. Anything to do with drawing, painting, or even coloring has always been rough for me because I’m kind of incapable of drawing a person without it look like a potato. Sure, when I was younger I loved to color and paint like any other kid at that age. But after I reached the age where creating scribbly lines on a piece of printer paper stopped being “cute”, I started to dread any activity that had to do with making art. It’s just not a talent that I possess, and I’ve jokingly described myself as “the furthest thing from an artist.”

However, writing is something that has always been a part of who I am. For as long as I can remember, I’ve always felt an urge to just write. Whether it be a silly story I wrote in a composition book, or my 8-year-old trials and tribulations in my “diary,” I always felt peace in letting the words translate from my head into black and blue ink on paper. To this day I have the same journal that I’ve poured my thoughts into for the past six years. I identify as a writer for Odyssey, an editor for my college’s newspaper, and an aspiring journalist. Writing empowers me, and I hope to live a life where what I write empowers others.

But am I an artist? I always believed that answer to that was “hell no.” I probably wouldn’t be able to watercolor without creating a shameful, yet colorful, puddle of disappointments. However, I’ve always maintained a vehement appreciation for art and the people who create it. I’ve been lucky to have many people close to me who are phenomenal artists, and each piece they create never fails to astound me.

That’s exactly what artists do, they create. That is where I believe I can identify with them, because I think of myself as a creator, as do most writers. When I think about it, writers and artists alike are all just creators who aim to translate their worldviews into different mediums. The ardent feelings produced whenever I read a powerful poetry piece are the same feelings as when I view an intricate painting. It’s powerful; it moves your soul. Both the writer and the artist create things that are an echo of the world they see, and the feelings that world gives them. It gives purpose, and it is always up for interpretation.

Yet people will tell you that writing or producing art isn’t a real job. It won’t get you anywhere in life and it’s impractical. As an aspiring journalist, I’m living in a time where writing is becoming a lost art and journalists are becoming less trusted as they’re labelled as “The Media.” But I’ll never lose that drive to live a life dedicated to putting my mark on the world through written words. And I hope that artists never give up their passion to make the world more vibrant with the stroke of a brush. I hope that creators never stop creating; that goes for aspiring directors, musicians, dancers, and actors alike. People might discredit us, but we go on to make the movies they watch, the music they listen to, the masterpieces on museum walls, and the printed text of their favorite books.

It can be difficult when schools cut funding for the arts before anything, or where even in some parts of the world, these creations are illegal and strictly censored. So I hope we keep on creating even when people try to knock us down, because to be able to do it at all is such a privilege. I might not be able to draw a straight line, but I have a deep appreciation for people who live to do what I am so terrible at. So keep on trying to change the world with your two hands; keep on creating.