I was raised to follow the concept of “concepts.” My index finger made to point at things—not people—but things only, it was used to press buttons and to ask for permission to speak. I was raised on the idea of the church, I had to be in church, follow the teachings of the church and I had to execute said ideas in my day to day confrontations. However, I wasn’t allowed to be myself and I knew who I was the minute I learned about perspectives. I knew I had a family of corrupt ideals, of diverse fields of work, I knew I had a slight penchant to one side. I was raised on technicalities, I had to eat with my elbows in proportion to the table, I had to choke on my cough during class, I had to hold in a squeal every time my favorite artist was on the radio… so really, I just had to be an adult about things. No one sees through an adult, it’s almost as if you can never call their bluff.
I could list a handful of things that make me who I am today. I could go on about my love for farming, photography, painting designing and music, but what led me to discovering these things was writing.
As a child, I grew up repressing certain emotions because I was afraid. I was always afraid. However, each and every time I had a pen in my hand, I felt powerful. I’d write my thoughts on my arm when paper was unavailable.
As a 20 year old, I am sure that I would have never discovered my strengths, softness and my ruthlessness without writing.