We were told to think about this project, 20 time, and write a reflection about it. We're suppose to write about if it was successful, our projects.
Technically, my project failed. I did not write a book of poetry, I didn't publish one. But, I did change my project, and I still haven't found out if I was chosen to be published in Canvas Literary Journal's summer edition. I won't find out until next month.
Over the past year, I was making myself let go of all negative emotions, and forcing them into my writing. As I look at poems that I've written from the beginning of 20 time, they seem so innocent, so filled with a fairytale ending. They were truly Letters from Autumn. They were letters from how I was in the beginning of all of this. I wasn't someone who had a people asking her to take photos for them, people paying attention to my work.
Through my writing, I have become more confident in myself. When I first started writing, back in the eighth grade, I was so unsure of myself. I didn't think I was a good writer. I thought I was just me. Also, a lot of the stuff I wrote was extremely dark and depressing. I don't like looking back at those memories.
I have always been on the quieter side of people. I like peace, and I like listening to the birds and the wind, and the rain. Even the silent winter nights, when snow drifts to the ground with no sound at all. It wasn't the silence, I can handle silence. It was the silence of me. I wasn't speaking my mind. I was small in personality, though not small in stature.
But now I am way more open about the fact that I am a writer. If people are willingly to listen I could talk about my work for hours. I have been told that I am certainly not small in personality. I have been described as loud, kind, and energetic. I am not tiny at all, not anymore. I love writing. It's something that's apart of me.
This project really helped me realize that I am so much more than a journal filled with writing. It was about self discovery, and I am pretty close to finding myself.
"I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am. I am. I am."-Sylvia Plath