Personal Narrative : I Heart Writing

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I heART writing
Ever since I was a child, I have always had the inclination to pick up a crayon rather than a pencil. From learning how to write my ABC’s to dreading over typing eight page papers, learning how to progressively read and write has manifested into a rollercoaster within my life, emotionally, that is. But don’t get me wrong, writing has slowly inched its way into my being and will continue to stay for my journey through academia. I honestly feel that there’s some sort of creature within my mind that prevents me from deriving happiness from english-related material. Though in the midst of all the chaos, I have developed an alternate outlet to express myself. An outlet where I wouldn’t have to think about forming sentences or using words that I don’t know but use anyway. An outlet in which I find solace and truly shows who I am as a person. The outlet of art.

During several moments of my life , I often asked my parents questions about my development, such as “How did I learn to read?” or “What was my first word?” Their responses have always baffled me, usually stating that I loved books and practicing how to spell when I was a child. I was a very curious elementary student who loved discovering the world one step at a time with my tiny but eager mind. Apparently, I loved series books such as Judy B. Jones and The Magic School Bus, and picture books such as How to Give a Mouse a Cookie and The Very Hungry Caterpillar. In addition, my mother and father would
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