The Desire to Write
The reason I loved to write is that there were no rules. I was able to write whatever I wanted because it was just for my own enjoyment. But as I grew up, my love for writing slowly faded.
Maybe it's because I’m not as creative as I was in elementary school, or that all the rules of grammar are ruining it for me. All I know is that it’s not something that makes me happy anymore. When I write, I make it sound like someone is going to grade it afterwards, or that I am going to end up publishing it. All the grammar corrections and yellow underlines that fill my paper, telling me this is wrong, or that this must be changed.
The reason why I hated math is that it was only rules. There were right and wrong answers. Every single detail matters when solving a problem. In English, I can talk about an idea that some people might disagree with in my essay and still get an A. There are never any right or wrong opinions, unless it is actually wrong.
Writing can only express things so much; there are many things in life that you can’t describe in words, like feelings, for example. I’m only sixteen, yet I feel like I’ve been living for much longer.
I’m not claiming that I am as wise as a 70-year-old, or as lost as someone in their 20s, but I’d say I’ve seen things that make me understand life a little more.
I don't talk much, so I think all the time. People’s thoughts are what they can’t say out loud.
I know this because I do it every day. For all the times I wanted to say something, but couldn’t.
When my mom asks me why I am lying on the living room floor, all I wanted was for her to ask me if I was okay. When my dad raises his voice at my mom, I want to tell him that whenever he yells, I become the 6 year old that sat at the top of the staircase, waiting for my mom to come up and tell me everything was okay.
As each day goes by, I say less and less. It has become too tiring to even say words out of my mouth. I agree with everything, so I don't have to argue, so that I don’t have to explain anything.
I feel like I’m always hinting that I’m not okay, but no one notices, or at least they don't want to notice. I get upset at others for not understanding how I feel when I don’t ever open up to people. I feel selfish for wanting someone to care for me with everything going on in their own lives.
This all started when I lost my desire to write.
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