There is one question that has tormented me since I was little: “What do you want to be when you grow up?” And each time it was asked, a different answer ensued.
At first I wanted to be a teacher then I wanted be a veterinarian then I want to be a forensic anthropologist then, finally, I decided that I would succumb to will of the Universe and let life happen. Soon thereafter, I found myself in the Journalism strand of the Cambridge Academy in my high school. Originally I signed up for Forensics, but I realized that crime scenes weren’t my thing so I switched into Journalism not knowing what to expect.
Fortunately, I fell in love with Journalism. I learned how to write articles and began to enjoy the crafting and sharing of human stories. It didn’t take long before I started telling my family that I wanted to be a writer, but I still had my doubts: Was I cut out to a writer? What could I possibly offer through my writing? Will my writing make any difference to the world today?
Then one day I came across a letter given to me by my fourth grade teacher long ago. I had forgotten about it.
After reading the letter again after so many years, it held so much more meaning than before. I was flattered when I first received it, but now I see it as the answer to the question I’ve been asking myself for so long. I have come to realize through this letter that I’m already a writer and that I want to pursue this “thing” even further. How far it will take me is another question altogether.