I used to be considerably less of the writer and speaker that I am today. I was just good enough at talking with my friends but I was not especially outgoing. I passed my language arts courses but the thought of reading something out loud for class frightened the hell out of me. I would find myself tripping over the English language in a cold sweat when I had to stand in front of my peers to do simple presentations.
I specifically remember a presentation in my sophomore language arts class. We had to stand at a podium and talk about someone or something historically relevant. I can not even remember who my subject was but I vividly remember how bad it was; the numbness of my mouth, the butchering of sentences and overly-quick reading of my notecards are familiar memories.
But then someone walked into my life. I had never had a best friend before and I doubt that was directly correlated to my lack of confidence in speaking. But nonetheless, when she and I became close, I found a reason to try to express myself. Talking and texting her hour after hour, day after day, I became more and more comfortable in my own skin and with my own voice. As our friendship blossomed, words became easier for me. My prose became flowing instead of jagged and I found it increasingly easier to express what was stirring in my head and heart more elegantly than "I feel stuff."
My changing confidence in writing and speaking was apparent my senior year of high school. During first semester, I often shied away from presenting for class groups and reading. Second semester, I was a bit more open to speaking in front of a group and my writing was improving between each paper I wrote (Largely thanks to an excellent AP Literature teacher who would not take fluffy papers, one of my specialties up until then.)
This carried on through the beginning of college. I majored in communication for Pete's sake. For group presentations, I was often the one chosen to speak. My long-form writing continued to flourish and I found myself going over word limits without realization. I picked up a second major last year and just finished writing a 12-page policy analysis for one of my classes. Now in the upper echelon of both curriculums, I write around 2,000 words a week with little issue. And in reality, I would not be doing that if it were not for the help and inspiration she offered years ago.
We were friends for a few years and were more for part of that time. But even after our time as friends had ended, that gift that she gave me remains the greatest I have received so far in my lifetime.
