I'll Always Keep My Word (School Passion Essay)
When everything seems to go wrong, I get my feelings out and it helps. I have the freedom to say anything I want without being judged , criticized or scolded. It’s gratifying to be able to turn my own feelings into something many people can relate to. It takes me to a place in my mind where I can be as creative as I want, and not worry about things that make life complicated or get me down. Who knew writing could be so powerful?
I never would have thought that all the vapid writing exercises and the banal alphabet songs I was taught as a young child, could all lead up to creating such a rewarding means of personal expression. I always find myself intrigued by the simplest things. I can recall a day when I was sitting in the passenger seat of my mother’s car waiting for her to fill it up with gas, and my eyes averted to a familiar scene (one I am not willing to share) across the parking lot. One that brought on a sense of déjà vu, which compelled me instantly to come up with the idea of composing my first, actual poem. It wasn’t even something I thought about; my mind just instantly knew that this picture instilled in my brain was meant to be transferred onto paper, with a rhythmic tone, in my blue spiral notebook, where all my thoughts and life philosophies were kept top secret. My poem ended up being shared with close friends of mine, who later felt they knew the real me after seeing my first piece. They used words like “deep” and “inspiring” to describe the level of emotions my words sent streaming into their minds. That’s when I knew I was meant to write.
I’ve often dreamt of composing stories, poems, and even opinion pieces to share, in hopes that they’d be good enough to be recognized as publishing material by some big shot who happens to come across my online blog. But I’ve come to realize that searching to make a profit out of what I love to do, withholds the sense of satisfaction that seeps through my veins and provides the beating motion for my heart. If my future career entails of writing, then so be it. At least I won’t grow tiresome of my job like those who go to college to sit in a cubical all day, then go home and feel the overwhelming, loathsome sensation they get from putting up with such animosity. But if not, I know I’ll always keep writing close to my heart, as if the letters W-R-I-T-E were tattooed across the right atrium, where all my inspiration comes from.
Like the celestial steps of an ambitious dancer or the angelic voice of an aspiring singer, writing has always been my thoroughfare to the spotlight on center stage. But my preparation for such a performance mustn’t be rushed. My thoughts need time to linger around the red margins and blue college-ruled lines to become something more--every word, sentence, and title must fit the piece perfectly; like how Romeo fits Juliet, The Diving Bell complements the Butterfly, or how Pride contrasts nicely with Prejudice. Although all I really do is form words together to convey some type of message that most people probably don’t even want to consider reading, inside of myself I feel like I’ve accomplished so much more. I can’t even begin to describe the unfathomable journey words take me on. So many words to learn, so many to memorize, so many to choose from. How do I know I’m even choosing the right ones?
The beauty of writing is that there is no final answer, there is no right nor wrong way to feel about something, there is no one in the universe that can tell me that what I have to say doesn’t matter. This makes me feel invincible and shields me with a bullet proof vest so that when those small, meaningless, metal projectiles come tracking me down, I can dodge them with just one teeny-tiny-single word.