Growing up a writer

Growing up a writer isn’t easy. None of my parents (I have three – mother, father, stepfather) have an out-of-the-box thought process, they don’t have that creative mind. So it can be difficult to get across my points much of the time, because I will be using concepts they don’t quite grasp. Being a writer has also turned me into an extremely emotional person. Not in the sense that I am too sensitive, but in a way that I can feel all things around me, I can understand others emotions. It is a burden and a blessing all at once.

With my parents being business managers, engineers, and IT computer analyzers, they weren’t exactly too keen on the idea of me being a writer, nor were they very fond of the fact that I was absolutely atrocious at anything math related. They wanted a daughter with huge aspirations who would go farther than they did, a daughter who would be a lawyer or a doctor. Well, I know for a fact I won’t be practicing medicine anytime soon, but I did consider law for a while. That’s when the burden of being an emotional person came in – I realized that I would become much too attached to those I would be working for, and the job would emotionally ruin me. So that’s not happening either.

But writing, oh my, I cannot express enough my love for it. The way letters flow together to form words which in turn create sentences and then come together to form a story… it is the most beautiful concept. One that most people overlook. Writers, however, they understand it, they see the wonder in it and use it to build their own stories. That’s what I wanted to do.

No one really believed me when I said I would grow up to be an author. I was always pushed away from the idea, and was taught how to do jobs in business or communications. My love for writing intensified when I found journalism. It was amazing to me, to be able to get out other people’s stories with my own words. I loved it. Yet it was put down very quickly by my so-called “support system” because journalists are not known for making money.

Now, I understand that my family wants me to live a financially stable life like the one I grew up in, and be able to have a family without worrying about how dinner will be put on the table. I get it. But writing is my passion, my first true love, and I cannot live without it.

I don’t believe I will go into college dead set on being a writer. My mind is open to what my career path will be, especially in business fields. If I could just find a job which combines writing into it, then I am sure I could fall in love with it. I will not give up the one thing I have had since I was a young child for the social concept of money. That is just not how I want to live my life.

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