Ever since I was a kid I knew I wanted to write. I would read incessantly, creating dreamscapes that lived in my head, and write relentlessly for that little voice that would never get quiet. Yet when I told my parents I thought I wanted to be a writer their initial reaction was disappointment. They tried to explain that art would never be enough to support me, and offered ideas and plans on how I should move forward. To them, having a career in the arts is synonymous with struggles, and their fear of my struggling career only instilled a dark and formidable force in me that kept me from trying to pursue what I loved.

I’ve always judged myself through the sharp lens of comparisons, so slowly the golden idea of being a writer rusted as I saw all the paths my friends wandered down, deciding on a career not necessarily because they loved it, but because it was comfortable and realistic. I imbibed this idea that having a life that made me feel fulfilled was selfish and unbecoming, and that somehow having a career in the arts would make me less of a person compared to those who do so much. I was horrified at the idea of falling behind the curve and becoming useless compared to friends and family. So I decided to analyze my writing- in order to see if I was worth it. I compared my poems and prose, and I saw the dramatic difference between me and other people. I wrote myself into nervous breakdowns searching for greatness, but only succeeded in becoming spineless and stiff trying to match the style of someone else. I slowly decided it would be safer to be good at something realistic than to be mediocre at something great. So when people asked me my plans for the future I casually shrugged and said I didn't have a clue.

But I have come to learn that the biggest enemy of creativity is fear. I was so scared of being average and slipping into indifference that I lost the beauty I felt when I first started writing. I got lost in the stillness of life dominated by gratification. I forgot what it felt like to pour everything onto a page, writing and not second guessing if it's great or not. The more I write the more I find that there is this beautiful intimacy in creating something so real and honest that acutely describes what I am feeling. Writing seems to stay in my heart forever, and it captures the strange feelings that have haunted me my entire life. Stumbling across a poem that communicates something you can't possibly explain out loud is one of the most powerful things you can ever experience. For me writing is what it means to feel complete, and I want to hold it with me for the rest of my life. So I started publishing my work, and even though sharing might be the scariest thing in the world, it is extremely satisfying. Because no matter what, I know I am only truly myself when I write, and seeing how people have connected to my work, and how well it has been accepted is extremely validating. I see the world brighter and clearer, and understand myself through all the chaos in my brain. I look at the things I have created, and know they are the most vulnerable, honest parts of myself.

So as I move forward in my life I know that the only thing I want to do is write. I want to be a mosaic of stories and characters and feelings. I want to fall in love with what I am doing and write fervently about everything I experience so I can become a victim to time. I want nothing more than to be surrounded by books and stories that burrow under my skin and live forever in my mind. Writing is my life, and I want it to always be my life.