the cornerstone .
since i was young, i’ve always loved to write. there’s some inexplicable enjoyment in being able to express oneself with words, even if you’re the only one that reads it, over and over again.
i’ve always had so many ideas (mostly copied, i admit), and i wish that i could turn them into a story of my own.
so whenever i was sad, i’d write. whenever i was angry, annoyed, distraught. whenever i felt something. and i came to realise that writing with these emotions made a piece or a story worthwhile.
during my younger years i wrote short stories about little asian girls that hated their parents because they were controlling and never happy.
in year 8 and 9 i wrote poetry because i got 20/20 for my school assessments.
in year 10 i composed short pieces of thoughts because someone wanted to read them.
in year 11 i wrote satirical articles because my scholani teacher said i had a flair.
in year 12 i wrote crime fiction and journey pieces because my teacher told me that they meant something.
everything came from the heart.
but now, all i really do is blog about my daily life, my emo thoughts and my cynical views on the world.
and after all this profound reflection i’ve realised the truth; all along, all it took was someone that believed in me.