Despite the white light currently being drilled into my retinas from my monitor, I am in one of my favorite environments. I have stayed up until one oclock on countless nights like these just sitting at the computer writing short stories and poetry. Building my own little world of metaphors and similes has been my passion for about a year now. The inspiration for this creative writing stems from the people, events and objects that I see everyday at school… Often, the wait until the last bell rings becomes too much to bear, and I end up jotting down quick poems between classes. However, I wasnt always in love with English; I greatly disliked the subject for many years because I was afraid to crawl out of the cozy mathematical cocoon I had wrapped around myself.
Up until my sophomore year, I viewed English simply as a hurdle in my high school education. Each day, I would go to class bored beyond belief, frequently gazing at the clock and wishing for respite. Every in-class essay seemed like a dreadful beast, and I would often receive low marks for reasons which I didnt comprehend. Comments such as no personal voice and no unique style seemed to litter my work in red ink. These comments made little to no sense to me because I was looking at English through a pair of mathematical glasses. I have always loved math and the way in which everything comes together. However, what I failed to realize at first was that in math, there is no such thing as a personal voice. Equations will always equal an exact number or at least an approximation; either you get the problem right or you get the problem wrong. For many years, I was frustrated with English because I tried to look at the subject matter in the same manner. It was like every solution eluded me and I had no idea how to solve the puzzle or even what formula to begin with.
The realization that there were two completely different sides to my mind began to dawn on me in my junior year when I discovered works such as Paradise Lost by John Milton and Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer. Every word written on the pages seemed to drip with a passion that was completely different from my dull and unimaginative style. As I was consumed by the beautiful language, I realized that I wanted to be able to affect people the way that these authors affected me; I wanted to have my own voice. Using their works as a deep source of inspiration, I tentatively stepped out of my comfort zone. I began to think for myself instead of simply using regurgitated information from classroom discussions. My essay scores improved drastically, and soon people were coming to me asking for critiques.
Nowadays, I am a completely changed man. When writing, I try to use every style imaginable. I have written in a Southern dialect as well as been the voice of a cold and calculating man with no hope. In English class, I often receive groans from my peers when we receive an essay topic because I actually often enjoy taking on the task of answering the question. What was once a monster is now a toy to play with. Also, I currently volunteer as a writing tutor at my school; its my way of giving people who might have the same problem as I did a chance to break free of their mathematical mold. The discovery that I was more than just numbers has enriched my life to a plane on which no circle or ellipse could lie.