The strangest thing happened today I encountered myself. I have been walking the earth for twenty years but I have never been able to see whom is doing that walking. Today I saw. I attended a university class named ‘Creative Writing: Voices’ and was forced to look upon my soul in all of its glory, in all of its distain.
I consider the act of writing to be innate. It is more than part of my existence, it is the reason for my existence. Weaving words together is a thoughtless task, one that I would compare to breathing. You don’t calculate the way in which you breathe, you simply breathe and I don’t calculate the way in which I write, I simply write. That is how it has always been and the child within me thought that is how it would always be. That child was wrong.
A man whom I will not give a name, introduced me to the concept of growth. I’ve always known of it. Our experiences become the water to our seeds and in result, we grow. However, before meeting this man, I did not realise the extent of what can be grown. It turns out that anything can… even the things you consider to be innate, can be made into something else entirely.
“We never read a book empty and we never write one empty. Each us brings our own history, our own beliefs and our own dreams to what we experience and to what we create.”
When the man said these words, I began to shake. I began to shake because I saw how everyone in the room welcomed these words, and it scared me. I had never met someone with a passion similar to my own and now I was surrounded by a room full of this passion. Nearly thirty people had their pen to paper and their hearts to sleeve. I became overwhelmed by the energy in the room because for so long, this kind of energy had only lived within me. However, it was now prancing from desk to desk and leaving its remnants on each page.
This scared me because I finally saw me.