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   How I first learned to write. Well in a literal sense it was in the back of my dad’s car. I named her Pearl after my favorite movie at the time Pirates of the Caribbean. It was a late afternoon, one where the sun seemed to escape by 4, and the moon was rushing to clock in by 5. The night was chilly but only to the point where a sweater was needed, but the seat warmers always seemed to do a much better job at providing warmth. My dad was always very keen on his kids excelling academically, when he saw my penmanship it was an issue he personally took into his own hands to correct. I remember him not allowing me to go in the house til I held the pencil properly, till he saw some type of improvement. Unfortunately, despite me walking away with better penmanship, the tense nature in which I learned forced me to write very heavy. For years I would write to the point where the words looked as if it were copied and pasted onto the next page in braille. It wasn’t until I started to take the seriousness of my education into my own hands, and place less pressure on myself to be that “perfect” child my dad always wanted me to be, that I started to write lighter. The words seemed to flow easier as though they were meant to be there not forced to be. Â
   My first exposure to writing wasn’t physically with a pencil, for I was never really a pencil and paper writer. It was 7th grade, a time in my life where the world seemed to have no purpose, for life was moving around me and I couldn’t get my feet moving enough to keep up. Wattpad at the time was a well-known app at the time, known for it’s fanfiction and its ability to allow it’s user to write their own stories. I started writing my own stories out of boredom and interest in where it might take me. There wasn’t much going on in my life, and I felt as though maybe writing would fill that gaping hole. I felt like it would give me a purpose, and allow me to finally put my energy into something that I cared about and had a genuine interest in. It was not perfect in any form, my themes usually revolved around Mafia love stories seeing as they were the big rave, and my theme was not consistent. The story ended on chapter two when I couldn’t generate any more ideas for they had already been thought about by the thousands of other stories just like this one on Wattpad already. So I started my own “journal” of a sort where I detailed my 12-13 year old life. It was short lived however, I soon lost interest in that as well and stopped writing for a while.Â
  In Highschool, I started writing again but not for anyone other than my mental stability and sane. It was a way for me to escape the realities of school and to have a safe place in which I could confide in. There was no judgement, no weird looks, no opinions other than my own, to react to these new experiences I was living through. Moments like my first heartbreak, the first boy I thought I was in love with, my first times living carefree in my Iphone’s notes. Who knew that such a small app could engulf the inner workings of my life. I continued this trend throughout all 4 years of highschool because sometimes I genuinely did not feel comfortable with talking to people about some of my issues, I felt as though I was being a weight that they didn’t necessarily need to carry. In my notes I was my most vulnerable but it was the epicenter of self reflection for myself. In my vulnerability I saw where I needed to improve through my writing. If it wasn’t for writing I don’t think I would see the necessary changes I needed to make.
