The first poem to make me cry was “In the Orchard” by Muriel Stuart. I was sitting in the back of my AP Literature class listening to another student recite the piece when it dawned on me that the author was speaking to me. She was reminding me that my emotions are not unique to my life—everyone experiences heartbreak; you will survive. Ever since that moment I have used my words to calm not only my soul, but to materialize the rage, joy, pain, and beauty that for many remain intangible, incomprehensible entities.
When the time came to make a decision regarding my career, I needed a lifestyle that would allow me to influence others in a meaningful way. At the time, my choice was a medical doctor. I would change the lives of thousands. However, as I spent time in several hospitals, my heart grew heavy. I couldn’t influence people. I couldn’t show them how beautiful the world was. I couldn’t go to bed at night and tell myself that I made the world a better place. I couldn’t.
My sign came when a high school senior told me that one of my Odyssey pieces made her feel more comfortable about going way to college. Up until then, I had doubted whether I had made the right decision to pursue a career in English. She reminded me that I could influence people with my words, that I could shed light on the beauty of the mind and the soul.
In a world where everything is becoming science-oriented, I feel a responsibility to keep the “human” in humanity. We can’t forget what makes us so unique: our ability to love, to forgive, to reason, to “feel” in general. As we drown in our work-obsessed culture, we often forget that our soul is just as important as our brain—that when our soul is heavy, we have lost the one thing that makes us human. When I write, I can feel my soul come to life. It is a reminder that I am not lost and, if I ever am, all I have to do is find a pencil.
I write to change mentalities. I write to comfort those who feel as if they are alone. I write because it gives my life purpose. Without the ability to transform thoughts into something we can see and understand, we would all go mad. We would never read and feel a sense of peace with the world. We would be trapped in our caged minds feeling as if our pain was something no one else could comprehend. When I read the 500-year-old works of lovers, warriors, queens, and kings, it becomes clear that, at the core, we are not any different. We all fall in love, we all feel self-conscious, we all have fears that hold us back from becoming the person we are meant to be. I write to remind not only myself, but those around me that no one is alone—that is one of the most comforting ideals to truly believe.
