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.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t good enough an excuse for my mom.

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

week.

Although dance team was a burden, it didn’t completely turn out how I was expecting. Momentarily, I was lead the team, though not well enough for any significant praise yet, it was a huge accomplishment for me and, what I thought would allow me to overcome my anxieties. There was a significant change, however, around the 3th week; a performance was approaching, and I was definitely not the team member to exude the confidence needed to guide the team to victory. Instead, I was replaced, and held a new position towards the back, of course, I was subjected to snickers, and how badly I preformed. Instinctively, I cried, but it gave me the strength I needed to learn how to excel in the art of dancing. And, surprisingly I did, after months of practice and emotional breakdowns. What joy.

In actuality dance team did assist in channeling another part of my personality, that eventually became apart of my everyday routine. Of course, I didn’t immediately start interacting with everyone, because I wasn’t suddenly transformed into Mother Teresa; there were still people whom I genuinely didn’t care for, but at least I saw a positive impact this dreaded activity produced. Although was still a definite outcast, I was able to easily excel, as academics became my outlet, I was enrolled in numerous academic clubs, and participated rather frequently, because I felt accepted and understood by my fellow team members.

There was still a sense of emptiness that I felt throughout my day, I didn’t have enough of an outlet to express the tidbits, and ramblings of emotional distress I had from both school and home. Dance provided me with an adrenaline rush like no other, which was a powerful feeling, until the drainage kicked in; I was always somehow stuck within my emotions, no matter how many extracurricular activities I decided to take up. I could have communicated with someone, sure, except no one was particularly trustworthy. I looked around for any clubs or writing workshops that might have been available, but that type of activity didn’t spark anyone’s particular interest. Enrolling in the writing contest would’ve been a splendid idea, if not for the fact the winner’s name was announced over the intercom, I needed a more private outlet.

I began my first private journal entire over the summer of 8th grade. I still vividly recall the smooth texture of the cover, and its abstract designs, the crisp lined pages covered with cherry blossoms on the sides; I purchased the journal with intent for its design to disguise it as an ordinary planner. Over the span of the break I confided my deepest thoughts into the journal, from the psychological aspect of why I, and others alike did not find me appealing, daily anxiety levels, and how I longed for self confidence, and cried myself to sleep from the harsh words of my parents, and peers. Why was I not worthy of love and acceptance? Why could I not be accepted as I am? Did anybody genuinely give a damn about my well-being instead of what I have to offer intellectually?

The beginning of the my entries started off scattered, which I didn’t mind, I just wanted to feel like I had a voice amongst my own thoughts for once, and I was capable of describing them in a somewhat coherent manner. As the journal progressed, however, as did my writing skills, there was more clarity in my sentences, transitioning from topics became easier. For once I felt in control of the way I felt. I didn’t need as much validation anymore, I just needed a pen. Life became considerably easier during this time, even during school. After homework I’d write for uninterrupted periods on end, first about any issues that might have affected me, either negatively or positively (which was honestly most days), and indulge any other thoughts that I might have taken particular interest to.

Needless to say, the journal was full by the middle of the year, so I purchased a larger one. Still disguised as a planner, although I didn’t need to hide my entries as much anymore, as my parents starting monitoring my writings less (apparently discussing their horrid parenting skills was shunned upon, so my journal was taken for a while), but I still liked the idea of having a secret. The contents in this journal were a bit more lighthearted, as I felt a significant shift in my emotions, I tended to use this journal as an actual planner and tipbook, along with some minor entries, such as crushes, distaste for a certain person(s), academic trivia, and areas of strengths and weakness. I noticed the recurring theme was similar to that of a blog, so I thought, “Why the hell not?” and began a personal blog on youtube by the name, hannahmontana90090 (I deleted the blog a while ago). I began with a few videos, talking about my interests, pictures of my most recent drawings, and a list of short stories I had begun to write. The stories seem to have caught the attention of a significant amount of youtubers, because my subscribers increased dramatically, however, the stories aren’t as significant as the people I met because of my writings.

Around my second month of blogging, writing and publishing stories (they were mostly fanfiction related), I received a message from two people of the same fandom (basically a particular person, game, show, group, etc. that you have a strong interest in) as me. The first message was from my future pen pal, Shanquia, (usename shanquiaromoxo), and the second, from another future pen pal, Taja, (tajawatson-jacksonx), praising my work and inquiring if I would like to partner up with them for a fanfiction they were currently working on. Without any hesitation I said yes, this was the first time I hadn’t written alone, so I definitely wasn’t going to pass up this offer. As we worked alongside each other, we got to know each other on a more personal level,, (although my friendship with Shaniqua would eventually surpass Taja’s), they were both genuinely compassionate individuals.
Shaniqua and I shared an unspoken bond though, apart from Taja we were very similar in appearance and ideas; often times we would literally finish each other’s sentences. She lived in Reading, England, she was British and Trinidadian, a few grades above me (I believe about 2?) and was passionate about the performing arts. Very quickly we learned that we were highly similar, and our friendship blossomed. She introduced me to her family via Skype, and her friends, I believe I was fond of Sasha the most. Communication definitely wasn’t simple, I only had an iPod at the time, and access to the library computer, so we’d talk through a variety of websites. Youtube, MSN, and Imvu were the most frequented.

Eventually she began expressing her personal emotions, sometimes it was in a concise paragraph, other times it was a tidal wave of emotions. Of course, I didn’t mind the outbursts, hearing her vent provided me with an odd sense of comfort, I finally found someone whom mimicked my intrusive, and self-deprecating thoughts, and I could help though their difficult times in the best way I knew how, writing. My responses were always as if I was writing to my former self, I wanted to channel my inner sadness, and reciprocate the emotions onto the page. I understood how harsh vague responses could be, I wanted to show her she was genuinely cared for, and I wasn’t the only one suffering with extremes of internal conflict. As a result, some conversations would span on for weeks on end, never losing their urgency.

Soon after, we began referring to each other as twins,, even including aliases for our new title, she was Destiny, and I, Destini. We created a new YouTube account, with we shared, as well as an e-mail for personal inquiries. At this particular time in our friendship we were inseparable, she was in transition of leaving for colleges, and we often discussed her school choices, and the major she intended she wished to pursue, eventually choosing Music. These conversations, often times, left me with a twinge of angst, due to her departure, but was immediately replaced with a sense of pride in her accomplishments. Though, even during those conversations she never made me feel unwanted, we discussed my future rather frequently as well, although at the time I only had some vague ideals of what I was genuinely passionate about.

Sadly, life caused a drift in our friendship, my high school years consisted of maintaining all A’s, a variety of extracurricular activities (mostly sports and chorus ruined my weekends), internships, relationships, and new friendships, overtook my friendship with Shaniqua, and the same probably applied for her. However, even with our distance, I believe we will eventually reconnect once more.