This I Believe

Emily - Springdale, Arkansas
Entered on September 14, 2007
Age Group: Under 18
Themes: creativity
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When the ink flows from my pen and connects with the paper I feel free, like a bird in the open sky; my feelings are gone, they are being let out onto the paper that contains a story. Everything that has happened to me, every tear that I’ve shed, every smile or laugh I’ve made, every time I feel like screaming becomes part of my story. Writing comes from the soul or somewhere deep inside this, I have learned.

In life we all have something important to us; girls have dance or cheer, guys have football and other sports; but what about me? I was lost for awhile not knowing what I was here for, I was average at dance (my sister the star), not so good at drawing (my siblings had that covered), I was good in school just like everyone else. I was nothing special, just another mouth to feed. Then I found writing, one day I picked up a pencil, found some paper, then a story came to me, in that moment I found my calling. Writing came so naturally to me like swimming to a fish.

After writing for awhile I found that my inside battle was weakening, I could breath more easily; I could have fun without having to worry about crying all night or spontaneously bursting into tears during the day, I was over things that had past. I found that my feelings showed through when I wrote stories, if I was mad the character was mad, if they were sad I was probably sad, and so on. One day I told my mum and sister that writing helped me express my feelings, but they just smiled and lightly laughed at me like I’d just told them a joke they’d already heard; but I knew how writing helped me, how it released me from myself.

No one understood why I loved to write, or why I wrote 450 page books. They thought I was a crazy girl with an obsession with showing off how well she could write. They’d ask me how I think up all my stories, I’d just say, “My dreams”, then I’d have to explain; after I told them the long dream story they’d stare at me like I belong on display for the world to see, so I would end up walking away or going back to writing. I ignore the fact that someone is reading over my shoulder, you get used to it after a few years, and you learn that you can’t hide what you’re writing, because one way or another some is going to see it.

I am just the girl who takes her writing too seriously, the one who has dreams about what to write next. Life used to be almost hard enough to break me, and then I found my soul in writing, or writing in my soul. So I say writing comes from the soul or somewhere deep inside, this I believe.