Blue nightgown? Check. Stuffed St. Bernard? Check. Window open? Check. Now all that is left is the letter. “Dear Mom and Dad, tomorrow is my tenth birthday (as you probably know) and I don’t want you to be worried when I am not here in the morning. I have gone to Neverland with Peter Pan. I am pretty sure I will be gone a week. Please postpone my party. Love, Clara”. Even though the letter ended up being unnecessary the next morning, the ritual of a letter before every birthday stuck after that night. Every night before my birthday and ever since I can remember, writing has been something I turn to, to record, to vent, to find comfort in. A common thread throughout many of my memories, writing seems to have always been a part of me. Before birthdays I write as if for a time capsule, daily I jot quick annoyances and triumphs in my journal, constantly I am writing. Something of a therapy, it has been a tool I have used to take my most painful or overwhelming realities and objectify them, work through them, and create a separate world for them where they exist away from the intense present.
Touched by a craving for an escape through words, I spent my childhood one of two ways: …show more content…
Suddenly I was juggling body image issues alongside a diagnosis ADHD and the accompanying myriad of different medicinal trials. I chose to internalize my struggles as I tested different medicines and searched for the perfect diet, and as a result I began to spiral into emotional peril. I began to see myself as different and wrong; which in turn prompted me to write the type of poetry that makes grown adults cringe. But through that time writing was my crutch, a constant in the tumultuous sea of my own dramatics. As a result of those early ramblings, my writing matured and I began to find my own voice. I was able to speak when I felt like there was nothing worth
Touched by a craving for an escape through words, I spent my childhood one of two ways: …show more content…
Suddenly I was juggling body image issues alongside a diagnosis ADHD and the accompanying myriad of different medicinal trials. I chose to internalize my struggles as I tested different medicines and searched for the perfect diet, and as a result I began to spiral into emotional peril. I began to see myself as different and wrong; which in turn prompted me to write the type of poetry that makes grown adults cringe. But through that time writing was my crutch, a constant in the tumultuous sea of my own dramatics. As a result of those early ramblings, my writing matured and I began to find my own voice. I was able to speak when I felt like there was nothing worth