It isn’t unusual for people to ask me what I love to do, and of course, I respond with “writing or literature”, and it is even more common for people to ask me why. And truth is, there are so many reasons why I right, that I don’t even realize them half the time. The first thing that comes to my mind of course is because I love it, but I have a much deeper passion than simply that.
When I write, I discover who I am. The words pile into my mind and spill out through the ink, forming sentences which together combine into paragraphs and pages. I write to escape from my reality and come into a safe space, where I feel completely at home, myself, at peace, and with my mother. Yet, I also write to figure out my reality. All of my thoughts are so tangled in my mind, so I type or write them out, and I can find solutions and finally begin to make sense of everything. I write to share my story. I promised my mom I would change the world for her, and this is my first step I am taking. I want to open up people’s point of views and introduce them to a side of life they never realized existed. I write to let people know they are not alone. I have been through so much, and I know I certainly would have wanted someone to let me know I wasn’t alone, so I will be that person for those with parents suffering from loss or cancer. I will be that person for those with a sibling who ran away. I will be that person for those who have been bullied horrifically. I will be that person for those who have felt utterly alone, even if they weren’t.
Writing is a soul part of who I am. When I grow old enough, I am certain you will see my books on the shelves at your local bookstore, and maybe some collaborating with John Green (my favorite author ever). I will be turning my books into movies, and changing people’s perspectives. I will be changing the world for my mama.