Monday, December 19, 2016

Why I Write


I wrote a blog post the other day stating exactly how I feel.  My boyfriend had just broken up with me, and I was hanging on by a thread.  Trying not to cry every second at work and at home.  And the next day, I looked out into my classroom, and I saw a girl who looked EXACTLY how I felt.  She looked like she hadn’t slept or eaten, and her eyes were a thousand miles from the classroom.

I know a little bit.  I knew a little background on her.  She doesn’t know mine, of course, but the shocking revelation is:  me – a person in her forties – and her - a teenager – felt exactly the same way.  I could see it her face for days, while I felt it for myself in a different way.  When I talked to her during those days, I saw my confusion reflected in her face.

So I gave her the blog post and watched her read it, and she wasn’t two minutes in when the tears started welling.  She understood.  I gave her my words, and she saw herself. 


That’s what I want to do with writing:  show people that they’re not alone.

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