The Importance Of Creative Writing

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The end goal, a journal, that holds such a meaning that even the thought of writing it is frightening. After the two long years of running the race, the end is finally in sight. Every assignment is a beginning to become more meaningful.
The beginning of the race was slow, a struggle for balance. We all walked into class that bright September afternoon, and the next time, only a few of us returned. It turned out the creative writing class wasn’t as it was described. We expected it to be just a time for us to write as we pleased; Oh how wrong we were. The class became more structured. A lot of the aspiring writers felt the anger of being told what to write, I being one of them. Something so trivial as writing in a spider’s point of view, being …show more content…

I wrapped myself so deep in its grasp that as the final project rolled around it felt like I was losing part of myself. Creative writing was such a meaningful part of my life, and the loss is equivalent to that of a family pet, or a dear friend. Writing became my escape, in such a way that nothing else had ever filled. Our second to last project was a poetry project. This project was so stupid to me in the beginning, but this project led to me finding myself, and friendship in a teacher who I so adored. Not too many of us took the project seriously, but when the final project rolled around, I requested to not do the assigned, but to instead do a poetry project like the previous one; Only freestyle. The day snuck up on me; the final stretch. The finish line looking me dead in the eyes as I woke up that morning. The rain more than just todays weather, but the feeling of knowing this would be one of the last times I saw my mentor. After this, she was no longer my teacher, but a …show more content…

I knew I had to keep it together and not let the people around me realize the sadness that this day was going to bring me. As I waited outside like always, because DeeDee was never on time, I realized this wasn’t the end. It was more a moment in my life where I could make a decision, to grow up, or to give up. I walked into that class, knowing that when I received my final grade and my journal, I had to make that call. The wait was the longest moment I have ever felt, the feeling that this was what I have been waiting for and it may never happen was agonizing. As she explained the exam to the younger kids, she talked about writing. In this moment, she got emotional. She broke down as she talked about knowing us on a level that not many other people did. She loves her job and she loves teaching this class; Something that is hard to find these days. It was a beautiful moment for all of us, whether we appreciated seeing her care so much or

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