Essay about I Am A Terrible Writer

963 Words 4 Pages
Everybody reminds me, the more you do something, the better. I have written for the past fifteen years yet, I am a terrible writer.
My relation with writing started earlier than with my reading. Since my parents were teachers of a small school in the village in Nepal, they decided to enroll their daughters in boarding school in the city. It was nothing like home. My parents were not there to read stories like other normal kids. With twenty other kids just like me, maybe it was impossible for the caretaker to read bedtime stories which are why I had to force myself to sleep every day hence, I do not have any close relation with any bedtime book. Fortunately, I was familiar with famous children 's stories as they were the course in later classes and I am now able to nod my head when the topic comes.
I vaguely remember young me writing. However, it was one time in grade three, we were given the assignment to describe our home. I went little overboard and described that I had the magical tree whose leaves taste like candies and had four peacocks that would dance in the backyard. Residing in boarding school, we were provided with the limited amount of sweets and the limited amount of playtime that to depend on the occasions. Possibly that might be one reason for my strange description while another might be my age where I could write freely without anyone criticizing and commenting about it. Of all the writing, I reminisce this particular one because it is unique. Like Ken…

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