Why I Started Writing

I only used to write when I was told. Growing up writing was always a task or an assignment that always recieved some sort of judgement. Markings all over the pages or notes that the reader enjoyed how I arranged my words on the page. It wasn't something I did just for fun or to paint a picture in my head. So when I started writing on my own it wasn't for pleasure either. I was really at the end of my wits. I just needed someone to talk to. Someone who would listen and not judge my words. A way for me to express my inner thoughts without fear. So I just wrote down every thought that came into my head. Some of them were full sentences, others were strings of chaotic words filled with emotion. I started to enjoy the process of writing so I could admire the thoughts in my head rather than trying to say things that people wanted to hear. This was the first time I was able to freely express myself. It led me to begin writing down my dreams and then my wildest fantasies. I imagined everything I could ever want and wrote them down like a to do list of my wildest fantasies. Things like "marry a rockstar and have him write a song about me", "become a millionare and donate all of it to charity", and "live in Italy and taste real tuscan wine". I did this because it was fun to illustrate a fantasy and live it on these pages. I noticed myself getting better at accomplishing tasks by writing about my day or the things I wanted to get done. It was as if as soon as it was written down in my black book. The chore wasn't just taken down, but simultaneously stamped into my subonscious, stained until I checked it off of my list. I got more organized and creative with my daily tasks. Over time I started to say that my little book could grant wishes in this way. Writing in my book was a personal hobby I've acquired over time. I didn't really mention it to anyone in my life since I live alone. The other day I was spending some time catching up with a friend I haven't talked to in a little while. I almost forgot her name but after we spoke for a few minutes the name "Natalie" flashed into my subconscious. Natalie was telling me all about her struggles adjusting to the married life and how she has started to hate the work she was in. I was single and worked the same teaching job I have since I graduated from college so I didn't have any good advice to offer her. I just told her about the things I was doing and how writing helped me change my perspective and accomplish things more easily. She didn't seem very aroused by my story and quickly went back to talking about herself. I thought she even ignored everything I had said, which made me remember why we aren't closer friends. We went our separate ways and I hadn't heard from her until three months later when she called me on the phone. She said she traced my number from the school I teach at and told me about how she left her husband. I responded with consolation and my condolences but she said that it wasn't even "the best part". She met a new man and she's already getting married to him next month and moving to Portugal. I didn't know what to say, her impulsive actions were far beyond my type A conception. She said she couldn't be happier and I told her I was glad to hear it. I wasn't sure why she went out of her way to share this news with me besides, my speculation that she wanted to prove that she has risen from her coniption about her husband when we last spoke. But she wanted to tell me that she took my advice. I wasn't sure what she meant until she explained further that she started writing everything down: thoughts, worries, wishes, dreams. She said she found patterns in the things she would write down and the things happening in her life. She would write about how much she hated her husband and how he neglected her emotionally and sexually and she noticed them drifting even further apart. She noticed this pattern blatantly when she wrote about missing the smell of lavendar because it reminded her of her mother's garden. Not a few hours later did she come across lavendar scented candles at Home Depot and lavendar stems at Whole Foods. I speculated the correlation, it seemed to me that lavendar would be typically found at places like this. She insisted that writing had a magical power to it. Like casting a spell. She tested it with money too. She wrote down that she would get $200 to pay her bills and she ended up earning $200 from a raffle she entered a few weeks before. I told her she was extremely lucky but she said she wasn't. That it was the book. She wanted to tell me that everything she had written down so far had come true and how she had used this power to make her dream life for herself. She wanted to thank me. I didn't know what else to say besides "Well, I'm very happy for you". She told me she would contact me again to send me an invitation to her wedding but I told her I wouldn't be able to take the time off of work to go to her destination wedding. We said our goodbyes and ended the call. I took a few minutes to process our conversation. It was incredible how much her lifestyle changed in such a short time. She was a beautiful woman with perfectly plucked eyebrows and long blonde hair. It wouldn't be that unlikely for a romantic european hunk to whisk her away. Not like that could happen to someone like me. I wrote about how it made me feel. About how I wished I could meet the love of my life and get married in a beautiful country and have $20,000 to buy a new car. I didn't have wishful thinking, more like I was yearning for something I could never have. When I went to sleep that night I dreamt I had all of those things. Like I was living Natalie's life. It was the best dream I'd had in a while, but waking up stung a little more than usual that morning. I was walking over to my coffee maker feeling as though I was abandoned by my own fantasy after I woke up, when I got a phone call. I groggily answered and was told by our principal that I was being considered for a promotion that would raise my pay by $20k a year. My jaw hung like it weighed an extra 10 pounds. He told me since I was already teaching that I didn't need to interview and that they would look at evaluations and speak with other members of the advisory council. He bascially called to congratulate me and commend me for my work. I was almost tranquilized by shock but I was able to stutter out about 5 "thank you's" before we got off the phone. I ran to my book and started writing. I wrote about everything I ever wanted. I was manifesting on every corner of every page in a frienzy. I loved my life but not enough to sit still when I could find ease from financial struggle or invite a little romacnce into my life. Now that I knew it was attainable, I began to want the best for myself. I stopped harping on the negative aspects because writing about them only made them more present and powerful in my life. This became so real to me that I even watched the things I would say in conversation. I had the power to manifest my life this entire time. However, it wasn't until I gave myself permission to use this power to be happy that I recognized how directly I was leading myself towards a path in life that could either be exactly what I wanted, or exactly what I didn't want. It was entirely up to me.