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What is style? The word by itself could mean so many things. One way that the word style can be used is when speaking about writing. So what is my writing style? There are many writing styles to choose from, but do you really choose a style or is that something you acquire at a young age? So how did I achieve this style? Has it evolved or changed over time?
I began loving the art of writing at the age of thirteen, which was when my worlds began to tumble down. That’s when I began to develop my writing style without even knowing it. I desperately searched for ways out of the misery I was feeling. One way that I found to be comforting was writing poems. I also liked writing journals, letters, and essays. I recall one time writing a letter which read “Today has been an ordinary day. Nothing ever changes. People don’t change as hard as we might try to make them change. Why can’t anyone truly love, I mean really love, not love me because they have to. I know no one will ever understand what I feel right now, but I guess life is like that. Oh well, what can we do, life is not fair. Maybe one day I will be happy.” I had written this letter in my math class and of course I forgot it. Well the math teacher Mr. G., whom befriended me, found it. He went looking for me and pulled me out of class so that we could have a talk. He said that he could not begin to understand how such a young girl could have such turmoil within. We talked for a while and he recommended that if writing letters was helping me, that he could be the one to read them. I agreed. This became like a ritual for me. I kept writing informal letters to my math teacher and we occasionally discussed them. I really fell in love with the idea of having such a great friend in the midst of feeling lonely. Until one day he decided to share one of the letters with his fiancé, who was a counselor. I became furious and I withdrew from him. There were even times when I would skip his class to avoid a confrontation. Then since I had no one to write to or at least that’s how I felt, I began to include all my anger into my school essays. My English teacher Mrs. Maldonado was very uneasy about some of my topics. They ranged from current crimes to teen suicides. I was always gloomy.
In the journal that I kept I often wrote about wishing that I had been the victim of a road rage or maybe I was the unfortunate person who went to sleep and just didn’t wake up. I was obviously depressed, hurt, angry, confused, and to top it off I suffered from stress and anxiety. Like I said before I love to listen to depressing music and emotion filled music, so I found it very difficult to be happy. I don’t know how I managed to fool mostly every one, except for Mr. G, but people taught that I was okay. Even my relatives could not foresee that I would try to take my life, the life that God granted me, and waste all my youth innocence, spirit just to die. I wanted it so bad, but obviously it was not granted to me. I have since repented for having such thoughts and for attempting to sabotage my destiny. In case you are wondering about Mr. G., well, I accepted his friendship once again and though I was still hurt I got over it. The night I graduated from junior high, he stood proudly to shake my hand and to9 wish me good luck. To this day I don’t know if got married or what became of him, but I always keep him in my thoughts and prayers.
Although I’ve said that I have repented about trying to commit suicide, I can’t say that I have had it easy after that experience. I mean I certainly learned that people involved in my life loved me and that I was worth something to them, but there were still many things missing from my life. As I began my high school career I experienced many heartaches caused by yours truly. One thing that helped me a lot was writing poems about events in my life, my feeling towards someone, and feelings about life in general. My style for the poems was using rhythm and rhyme. I wrote a poem to every single person that meant something to me. I remember one that says, “Hand in hand we always went so every one thought that it was meant. I left you because really messed up, what can I say or do if I wasn’t the one who slipped up. Now you say that you have missed me, and that’s what has started to piss me. I don’t love you any more; I am not the idiot I was before. Go back to the new fool that you found, I stand still when I stand my ground.” Well as you can see it’s not great but it’s my memory of some one who does not have any part in my life any longer. I even wrote a poem for my sister when she was going to marry. That was probably the only happy poem that I wrote and of course don’t hold a hard copy to. You may recall that I burned my journal from when I was younger, so all the poems I wrote are gone for ever. Well, maybe there not written anywhere but they are in my memory along with all my experiences.
So what has my style been throughout life? Did it change? I think that when I was younger I dwelled in sadness so my writing reflected my emotion. Now I think that I add that emotion to what I write about but the big difference is that now it really does help me feel better. Back then, I only felt more rage after writing about something. Plus, I think that even though I did write about dying and suicide, I never really said all the true reasons behind my pain and suffering.
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