From the outside, you’ll see an average composition book. The corners are worn and folded over. All white space had been doodled upon in some way. It seems to be of little interest to anyone. Nothing important lives in this book. That may be what you’d think, but you’re wrong. What lives in this book is self discoveries, little pieces of literature, random thoughts yet to be translated, and bleeding wounds starting to heal. This is the journal of a high school student.
Upon opening the tattered cover, one might find awkward attempts to open up to a deaf audience. Small pleas are sent out, one by one, begging for someone to hear what they have to say. Slowly the student reveals her true identity. She lays down her mixed emotions and we discover her hidden meaning. We are enticed by her family problems: a father who shares an odd flavor of love, a grandfather who is slowly dying, an aunt who has sticky fingers and no heart, and remnants of distaste toward one another. She pours out her pain until her cup is empty. Then suddenly everything in her life takes a turn for the better. She looks up to find that she can love herself, despite what has been drilled into her over the years. She begins to grow and discover a love for writing.
Short stories soon find their way onto the pages. She replaces her complaints with expressions of creativity. Each story has a hidden meaning that even she barely understands. The air, now free of contempt and harbored hate, holds promises of spring and fresh starts. Her character develops a grateful persona. She holds every little thing close to her heart to help block out any attempt for the negativity to move back in.
Eventually we find that she has grown up- I have grown up. I learned what was important in life. I learned not to sweat the small stuff. I learned not only to be okay with who I am, but to be proud of who I have become. But most importantly I learned to be thankful. I have so much good in my life, that the bad just seems to not sting at all anymore. I am that high school student, and this was my journal, cover to cover.
Upon opening the tattered cover, one might find awkward attempts to open up to a deaf audience. Small pleas are sent out, one by one, begging for someone to hear what they have to say. Slowly the student reveals her true identity. She lays down her mixed emotions and we discover her hidden meaning. We are enticed by her family problems: a father who shares an odd flavor of love, a grandfather who is slowly dying, an aunt who has sticky fingers and no heart, and remnants of distaste toward one another. She pours out her pain until her cup is empty. Then suddenly everything in her life takes a turn for the better. She looks up to find that she can love herself, despite what has been drilled into her over the years. She begins to grow and discover a love for writing.
Short stories soon find their way onto the pages. She replaces her complaints with expressions of creativity. Each story has a hidden meaning that even she barely understands. The air, now free of contempt and harbored hate, holds promises of spring and fresh starts. Her character develops a grateful persona. She holds every little thing close to her heart to help block out any attempt for the negativity to move back in.
Eventually we find that she has grown up- I have grown up. I learned what was important in life. I learned not to sweat the small stuff. I learned not only to be okay with who I am, but to be proud of who I have become. But most importantly I learned to be thankful. I have so much good in my life, that the bad just seems to not sting at all anymore. I am that high school student, and this was my journal, cover to cover.
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