Julia Meguid​

        

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Why I Write

 

 

 

      The words string together like garland on a Christmas tree; they wrap and support each other all while embellishing ideas that exist in writers’ minds. Each word has a purpose, its own story that contributes to something much larger than itself. Whether the story is realistic or not, based on data or not, meant to be shared with others or not, the words are always there, doing their job. I write to express what I feel.

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      After a busy and exciting nationals dance competition, my family and dance friends were waiting in the airport for our flight back home to Shelby Township, Michigan. Two nights before, one of the moms of my friends started an argument with my family. It was difficult to watch and hear as someone whom I thought was an ally, a second-mother and role model verbally attacked and charged at my own family. Anger ran through me from the top of my head into my fingertips. Tears welled in my eyes. I had never known rage until then. My thoughts were frazzled, and I did not know how to handle it, so I used the anger in my fingertips and converted them into words. I wrote a letter about my thoughts, feelings and why I was so perturbed by her actions. Instead of giving it to her, I decided to keep it myself. This was something I wrote for myself, to myself. It was a reminder of how angry and upset I was, and I would use it as a reference to keep note of my feelings.

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      About three months later, I sat in the airport again- this time on a trip to Boston with my mother for a tap dance convention. Our flight was pushed back once, then twice, and so I let my worries drift away and travelled to a new state of the world that only existed in my mind. I watched as others walked by- some fast, others leisurely- and I wondered where each person was headed and what their next journey entailed. And so, once again I turned to words to explain what I was observing. This time, I wrote what I saw- families running to the McDonald’s line to try and get food for their hungry kids before their flight boards. I saw couples walking to their gate, getting ready for what seemed to be a honeymoon. I saw all types of people from all walks of life. Some looked anxious- I imagined that they were getting on a plane to visit their family for the first time in a very long time. Others looked joyous- I pictured that in a few hours, they would be sitting on a beach, relaxed by the sound of the waves crashing onto the shore. With every person I observed, a new story came into my mind. 

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      In eleventh grade, we were tasked with thinking about a concern we have in society- locally, nationally, or even globally. It was then that I knew I could no longer pretend to hide behind a curtain of excuses and ignorance. I wanted to be an advocate for women. I wanted to explain the anger and frustration that I felt and the fear that I had due to a biological difference that someone along the way decided that it would mean that I, along with my women counterparts, were lesser for it. And so, I wrote a letter to ex-president Trump about how I cannot tolerate or stand the disgusting inequalities that women have to face on a daily basis. While I got no response (I didn’t imagine I would), I also wrote this letter for myself and fellow women peers. I wrote this letter to show my passion and motivation to create a better society for all women.

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      My family means everything to me- they are the people who will always have my back regardless of whatever life has in store. My sister, specifically, is the person who quite frankly is my inspiration even though she is three years younger than me. She has a drive like no other- a force to be reckoned with. Anytime one of us has something important- an exam, a dance competition, an interview- we motivate each other; and so, we write. We write to each other whether that be inspirational quotes or inspiring letters to show the other that we got this. I am her big sister, and I take my job as her big sister very seriously:

 

I want to bear any pain that she has myself, so she doesn't have to: the growing pains. 

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The friendships that you lose when the lights are dimmed down,

Missing the past bliss,

Lost love and cost love that she will face,

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But it is all a temporary sting. I want to tell her to know it will eventually all make sense.

 

When all of this subsides (Mena).

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I want all of her biggest dreams to come true; her worries to be small and her imagination to run free. 

 

She is light.

 

I cannot wait to see all of her aspirations become a reality. And so I write to express my pride to be her sister. I write to cheer her on. I write to ease her of her fears, and of mine. I write to her so she knows it is going to be okay, and so that I know it is going to be okay.

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      Writing, for me, is a collection of thoughts, feelings, and expressions. Writing is my comfort- it is the way I feel that I can be accepted and understood without having to hold back any emotions or thoughts. My mind can run free and the only boundaries are the lines on the pages. Emotions are universal across the world. Anger, disgust, happiness, sadness, surprise, fear, and contempt are emotions that can be read on anyone’s face regardless of language, culture, background or experience. Some even argue that those seven basic emotions are innate- that we are born knowing what they are and how to recognize them. Writing is a way for me to cope with those emotions- positive or negative. However, not only is writing a way for me to emote, but also a way to express- gratitude, happiness, appreciation. In all of the instances when I wrote, I did so to put my feelings down; in some cases they were for others to read so they, too, can get a sense of what I was feeling at the time. In other cases, they were for me to take out an emotion and keep it privately to myself.

      Writing is an important part of who I am. Without writing, I would not have an outlet for my mind to explore the crevices of this world, nor a safe haven to feel better, and not even a way to attempt to change something. I am a writer and I choose to write for the sake of being imperfectly perfect. It is a way I can be imperfect without having the societal pressure of hiding it from others.

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Works Cited

 

 Universal Emotions: What are Emotions? (2020, January 30). Retrieved January 21, 2021., Retrieved from https://www.paulekman.com/universal-  emotions/ 

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Mena, Maria. “Growing Pains" Spotify.