When I was little I tried to write a novel and got two pages in before I gave up. The story wasn't even original. I had essentially copied a movie I had recently watched on TV (plagiarism means nothing to an 8-year-old).

Fast-forward a few years to high school and I forgot all about creative writing. The only writing I did was academic papers for school, and I never thought about any serious writing outside of that. I was sure that I was going to become a doctor, and that needed all of my attention. I focused on science; while I was excelling in English, writing swiftly, naturally, and inherently understanding the nuances of the complex things we read, I never considered that world my future. My future was biology and anatomy and years upon years of schooling.

Even after loving AP English and the poetry portion of it, I still went into college Pre-Med. I got two and a half years in before it all changed. I was miserable. I hated math as much as I always had and now I hated chemistry, too. How was I supposed to be a doctor if I didn't even want to get out of bed to learn how to be one?

At that point, I had already been fighting with depression and anxiety for a few years. I had no working outlet for what I was feeling and I wanted to give up. I had never gotten anything below a C grade in my life until chemistry. It was a hard hit when I barely scraped by. And this was only the basic course. I couldn't imagine a course any harder.

It wasn't until halfway through the second chemistry course I took that I suddenly decided that I didn't want to be a doctor anymore. Ever since I was two years old, I said that I would grow up to be a doctor and it was difficult to let go of that. I didn't want to let anyone down because I was always praised for being "so smart" and wanting to save lives. It's hard to feel "so smart" when you're surrounded by people who understand equations and symbols when you don't understand any of it.

What would people think of me now that I wasn't going to be what they always thought I'd be? Thankfully my parents were supportive and told me that I should pursue an education in what would make me the happiest.

I didn't immediately settle on English as my new direction, though. I searched around and considered a few different options before I realized what was right in front of my eyes my whole life. I loved reading. I read all the time. I was a good writer. I liked to write. English was always where I excelled the most and I couldn't believe I didn't consider it sooner. I think it's because they don't really teach you in pre-college schooling that you can study the arts and humanities. All the emphasis is on business and the sciences (no offense to business or the sciences).

So I switched over to English. And immediately, that next semester, my grades improved and I was having fun in my classes. I understood everything. I excelled once again. I also picked up a film studies minor, which I dropped a semester later and picked up a professional writing and creative writing minor. Two semesters later, I dropped the professional writing. It was in creative writing that I found something entirely special and invaluable.

I started out with writing fiction and I found myself flexing muscles I'd never really flexed much before. I could write about anything I wanted. It was stressful and exciting and scary. I didn't know how to not write academically, but I ran with it. I was sure that fiction would be it for me. I was wrong. I took poetry next and while my poems were angsty and not that good, considering I had no idea what I was doing to begin with, I had tapped into a well of creativity I didn't even know I had. After that one class, I grew as a writer by leaps and bounds. I was shocked at how much I learned about myself in such a short amount of time.

After taking one more fiction class and struggling with writing in that form (when one of your main critiques is that there's too much poetry in your prose, you reconsider), I finally realized that poetry was where I truly wanted to be. I was accepted into advanced poetry writing, where I was surrounded by people that made a huge difference in my life, even if they don't know it.

These people taught me that I didn't have to be ashamed of my mental health struggles or the fact that I sought out help because a lot of them were in the same boat, as is a large portion of the United States. They helped me become more comfortable in being open about things that I felt I could never be open about before. I could finally write freely and candidly and I gained a confidence in my work that I had yet to experience. I was a writer, an artist, and I was surrounded by people who were compassionate and uplifting. This was just a month ago.

Now, I feel better than I have in a long time and I've only been writing for a little over a year, but I've come so far since the beginning. I was published in our undergraduate magazine and I'm now toying with the idea of going to grad school for creative writing. When I write, I feel an unmatched exhilaration. It's hard, of course, and sometimes frustrating when you get writer's block, but I wouldn't give it up for the world.

I constantly learn new things about myself through writing and it nurtures me in a way nothing has before. It's an outlet I never anticipated and is unparalleled. No exercise or comfort food could give me what writing poetry does. I feel like I'm always growing and improving and in five years, who knows who I'll be as a writer because that's the exciting part about writing; you never stop growing and you never stop learning. My only regret is that I didn't get into it sooner.

So thank you to my classmates and fellow writers for teaching me to be comfortable with myself. Thank you to my instructors for guiding me and helping me learn the significance of my creativity. Thank you to my friends who read my drafts and support me. You have made all the difference.