English was my worst subject at school. I was often told that my ideas were too outrageous and far outside the box. I used to write stories when I was very young, but nothing really came of them. My mother and sister would contribute greatly; editing and formatting and it was never really my art. This led me to believe that it needed improving and was not good enough. When I interpreted poetry, I always saw so much more meaning than the others in my class. I am an empath. I feel so deeply. I find hidden meanings in everything. I like the ideas of connections.
When I began to write again, it was very much for me. I write to cope and to survive. When I do not write, I feel empty. I was given a gift. My words and the power of speech. I think and feel so deeply and my opinions are a blessing. I deserve to speak and write just as everyone else does. So I now speak freely, honestly. I write because it is all I know to do. I found my voice, finally and I love it. Every word pours out and it is natural to me. It is a massive part of me. It is my expression.
I used to be so lost. I know who I am now. I am not caught up in any of it. I know exactly who I am and why I write. It brings so much clarity. I will write a book. One day. That is the aim. The dream. You know they never told me what it would be like, when I left school and was outside of a classroom. They never allowed me to write freely so I assumed I would never be able to. Life has taught me so much and allowed me to grow in a way I never anticipated. I am absolutely terrified. By everything that happens and all that comes to me. I know that this is all I have right now so I will never let anyone take it from me.