Most people know that I enjoy writing.
Whether it's poetry, prose, blog posts, or sometimes short stories, you can basically find me writing. I write poems on my phone, my laptop; I'll even create poems in my head and hope that I remember it for when I have something to write it down on.
I've been writing since I was able to write.
When I first starting writing, I enjoyed writing my name. My parents' name. My brother's.
I recall the first time I had my poetry graded. I was in 7th grade. I had Saturday school at USC with NAI (Neighborhood Academic Initiative). We had an assignment from our English teacher to write in a certain structure (it had to be free verse/a specific rhyme scheme that I don't remember) and to write about any topic.
So, of course -- being the romantic that I am, I wrote about love. Being in love. I also wrote in free verse, because I didn't want to feel restricted with my writing style.
(Don't judge me, I was young and in puppy love.)
Unfortunately, I lost my poem, so I don't know where it is at all. *enter sad face*
I wish I could've shared it with you.
Anyways, my teacher returned it to me a week after the assignment was given to my class and I.
I received a poor score.
I was about to cry, because I strived for only A's. But when I read her comments on my poem, my heart stopped when I read this:
"Did you plagiarize this?"
Thank you. Thank you for writing that.
Ever since then, I've been writing poems for almost any occasion: a break-up, a rejection, a new found love, family, broken friendships, my anxiety/depression/panic attacks, and self-love (or sometimes, lack of).
When I speak about any topic that I'm passionate about, I sometimes get caught up and end up going off on tangents.
Which is why I love writing. And why I write.
I write because I am having a conversation with a pen and paper. They understand what I am trying to say and help me spell each word o-u-t. I can go off on a tangent and fix it. When people can't understand what I am trying to say, I write it out, and suddenly they relate. They understand.
I've shared some of my poetry to friends, teachers, lovers, family members, and when they look at me after reading it, it's a feeling I can't describe.
Those blog posts I write? I get such incredible feedback. They help people.
The poetry I write? I get such loving comments. They help people.
But I'll be honest, my intentions, at first, are not to help people.
My writing is selfish. I write for myself. To yell. To cry. To sob. To laugh. To love.
I write for myself.
A byproduct just so happens to be that people find words that resonate with them and make them feel better.
And though that isn't my intention, I'm still happy knowing that I've helped someone.
Many people ask me what I plan to do with my major (English Literature) and if I plan on being a poet as a career. I answer that I want to be a poet, but sometimes, I'm not so sure if I do.
I'm not sure with what I want to do with my life yet, but I do know that I want to continue writing.
Writing is a realm that lets me be who I am without judgment. A realm where I can spill my feelings in ink or lead. A realm where I am happy even if I am sad. Or angry.
Writing is something that no one can take from me. So, I definitely recommend writing, to everyone, as an outlet. A beautiful outlet.
When you think no one can understand, writing your thoughts is one way to help you.
And who knows? Maybe you can help someone, too.