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As a first-grader, I wrote this seven-word entry in a school journal: "I lik my gp bec he du." At the time, I had received news of my grandfather's recent death. To express my sadness, the child that I was thought that writing an entire entry on my grandfather would be my show of reverence, a way to honor the grandfather I never knew. Unfortunately, child-words and misspellings cloaked my true message. No, I did not like my grandfather because he had died. And yes, I abbreviated many words, and "du" meant died. I know this because I remember writing the entry. Because I remember writing this entry, I remember what the original message was meant to be.

Growing up, I learned to use writing as a replacement for words I could not speak. Up through high school, I was quiet and shy in front of my peers. However, written words always came easily, and I escaped into writing as a way to channel the thoughts and emotions I otherwise could not express. Whether in a journal or an essay, writing became my emotional therapy, for few other means of communication came as naturally. Writing and re-writing became my truest form of communication, for having the ability to edit what I wrote helped me find that inner voice that often could not speak out of fear, doubt, and sometimes, guilt.

College was my first writing boot-camp, and there, I learned to focus on the mechanical details of writing. My works were ripped apart-pages deleted, sentences cut and pasted, and drafts scribbled over with red pen-and I learned to how to build an argument and how to give purpose to each word I wrote. My writing significantly improved because I cared about crafting a thoughtful argument each time I wrote. Consequently, I now have the power to better persuade others and effectively present my ideas, beliefs, and thoughts.

My evolution as a writer has enabled me to use writing as a way to see what is and what can be. I always write something, even if it is just an entry about the mundane details of my day. Once I let my thoughts roam, I become free of self-consciousness; I separate myself and my words from my own expectations and fears. Writing really works for me. Problems get solved, frustrations are vented, and hopes become more real once they materialize onto paper, and as long as I write only honest words, I find that through writing, I can work towards who I want to be. Blank paper gives me a freedom I can rarely find elsewhere: freedom from judgment. Such freedom allows me to imagine

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