The Pen in my Hand

Today someone told me: Do something because you're passionate about it, not for fame or money. Because fame and money disappear. But passion lasts forever.

And as I think about it, I realize that it's true.

I've loved to write ever since my handwriting became legible, and I got my hands on paper. I loved it before I discovered I wanted to be a journalist. Before I had a blog that people read, or before I had the burning desire to start a school newspaper.

But sometimes I forget that. I get caught up in high school and how fast my life seems o be going that I don't stop to remember why I try so hard. Why I stay up until one in the morning doing homework, why I stress myself out so much.

It's because I want to walk down the stage in a year and a half, in a cap and gown, diploma in my hand, knowing that I'm going to a school that I can spend four years of my life making what initially seemed like a childish dream of being a writer into reality.

And today I remembered that. The reason I write.

I don't write for people to read it. I write because it's the one thing in the world that no matter what happens, I love. The one thing I can't live without. The one thing that keeps me sane.

So it doesn't matter if I'm the only person to read my words, because it's not about that. It's about me never letting go of that pen, never giving up on the dream that I've had since the first person asked me what I want to be when I grow up.

And that's why I'll continue to pick myself up from my bootstraps when I fall , because I know that wherever my future leads, I'll have a pen in my hand.