My Writing Experience

Most of my childhood is filled with memories of unfortunate events. Writing was my outlet to express my feelings about them, but could never formulate my thoughts in a coherent manner. My short stories and poems always had a tendency to begin with one idea and end on a completely different one, though that never bothered me, I simply loved writing, whether it was good or not. However, it wasn't until middle school writing became an actual outlet for my emotions, because my difficulty to comprehend the spectrum of emotions I had throughout the day. I suffer from a great deal of anxiety attacks often brought on by suppressed stress along a string of personal experiences with abuse, and other traumatic incidents that had a significant impact on my writing style. These anxieties began to exhibit themselves more frequently during my middle school years, as I was painfully shy, and, yes, somewhat desperate for social acceptance, because the environment was such a significant change from my previous school. Most students were polar opposites to me; outspoken, seemingly confident, and easily socially accepted, because their personalities were so alike.

The first week of 7th grade I was forced into participating in extracurricular activities; the only clubs open at the time were Hair-styling and Dance Team. Neither was my forte, as I had absolutely no interest in learning the techniques behind how to style and color hair, and dancing required me to exude confidence that I clearly did not possess. I remember thinking to myself, “What the hell? I wear my hair in a bun everyday, why would I be interested any styling anyone else’s hair?” Alas, I was placed into both, which only heightened my anxiety, now I had competition for something I wasn’t even remotely passionate about, yet, still expected to excel. I only lasted in hair club a