July 31, 2017
I always thought I was really good at writing English, but recently I’ve been struggling to write and edit everything, from captions on a picture to personal letters; I just feel like written and spoken languages are slipping from my mind. And when I tell myself that I always thought I was really good at writing English, I like to ask myself when? When was I ever good at English, and what made me think that way? I almost didn’t graduate high school because of it! I don’t blame the fact that English wasn’t my first language, I’ve met foreign exchange students who have better speaking and writing skills that I do. I think it has to do with the fact that I’m dyslexic and left-handed, or left-brained. That hasn’t stopped anyone else I know with those same traits from becoming great students though, so that excuse flew out my window years ago. But what did make me think I was good, anyway?
I never did get the best grades in any subject at school. I was loosely a “C” student in every level of education, and I say loosely because I did receive more than a handful of “D’s” and “-F’s”. I was also that kid who wrote an essay in late hours of the night before a paper was due to then only turn in the rough drafts on crinkled paper. I was like that in every subject. If my math teacher gave us ten problems, I’d feel accomplished if I even got four done. I’m starting to divert. My mind was always elsewhere, as the saying goes “up in the clouds”. Life was always a blur and so was my imagination. I’m diverting again.
Whenever I did get a “B+” or a “-A” on my papers in English I would feel accomplished in everything, anything ever. I don’t know what that means, but that’s how I felt. Those were one or two yearly. I think that’s what had to do with it. Once I wrote a good paper, I could never write one again. I want to be in love with writing. To do that I’m going to read a ton more, take more classes in community college, yes, who knew this girl would end-up in community college, and of course, write more. I won’t give up my obsession with wanting to fall in love with writing, regardless of why I’m not so good at it. Actually, my mother says that the reason is obvious, I’m lazy. Com’on, mom!