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Dear Writing,

March 3, 2013

WritingWe met when I was really young and started hanging out in elementary school. It was simpler back then, back in first grade when the writing topics were weekends and Thanksgiving. I couldn’t spell very well, and my handwriting was lousy, but I wrote. And then in third grade, I started to really like you – like, started to write stories and make a fake newspaper like you. I think part of it is because I loved reading, but you overtook that soon enough.

You’ve been with me through everything, literally. Essays in classes. Articles in newspapers. Notes on Facebook. Letters to friends, family and teachers. Entries in a diary. Cover letters in applications. Speeches in COMS class. Posts on this blog. When I’m upset or angry or excited or triumphant, I call on you, and I know you’ll be there.

You got me through high school; without your presence during those four years, during that halfway-across-the-country move, during the ups and downs of high school, I don’t know what I would have done. You brought me to The Express and gave me true friends and a place to call a second home, where I wasn’t judged for my love of grammar or appreciation of the “Today” show. Thank goodness for that.

You get me through the tough times – well, tough times for a 20-year-old. No matter what emotion or thought I express, you listen. You let me backtrack and rant for pages on end. You gave me perspective when I needed it, and I was able to turn to the next chapter.

You help me express things I yearn to express. Help me tell teachers they mattered. Help me tell Ann Curry she carried the ball over the finish line. Help me tell people I am grateful to them. Help me figure out why things are the way they are.

You helped me understand the things that happened to me. Things would happen, I would write about them, and I would be okay. Like Virginia Tech. And high school graduation. And people. I didn’t get it; I just didn’t get it, but with you, I found answers.

You’re a catalog of the most important parts of my life. My fourth and fifth grade class. My Bat Mitzvah speech. My college application essays. My blog posts about college, Italy and Israel. I can look back on those and remember how I felt during those moments. I can remember who I was and reflect on who I have become. You help me do so many things.

Let’s be honest: I wouldn’t be who I am without you. You’ve been such a vital part of my life for so long that it’s like we’re one and the same. Also, when someone gives me a writing topic, I just have to write on it… I can’t let it fall by the wayside. That says something.

Everyone deserves something like you – something that’s as much a part of them as you are of me. Because you are a part of me – a part of my past, a part of my present and a part of my future. Because even if I wasn’t pursuing journalism, I couldn’t part from you. Not for a second, not for a day because you know as well as I do that there are moments when I just need to write. Moments when I need to get something off my chest, even if it’s just for me to see and no one else. I want to use you to change the world – one word at a time.

Writing, I love you. Always and forever. Thank you.


Inspiration for this blog post: “Writing changed my life. It gave me everything. It gave me courage. It made me understand more who I was.” – Judy Blume on Rock Center with Brian Williams


From → Sophomore

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