I was going through my notebook for this semester and found a “self-analysis” I wrote back in September during my Introduction to Poetry class, and re-reading it, it kind of reads like my ethos and drive when it comes to writing, something which I may have lost over the past few months with schoolwork. So, I figured I’d publish it here, both to share with you and to keep as a reminder to myself.
I have always wanted to be an artist. I’ve wanted to be a painter, an animator, a musician, a filmmaker, and everything in between. But as I grew older, I discovered that the only art form that I have any knack for is writing, and so I poured my heart and soul into it.
I am inspired by emotions. Whether these emotions belong to me, or are the manifestation of someone else’s experiences, I write about them. Euphoria, misery, anger, heartbreak, if it is something that can be felt, it inspires me. I have a hard time writing a subject when there is no passion.
Since my subject and inspiration is so frequently emotion, my audience becomes anyone who can relate to whatever I’m going through. I am motivated by the fact that the human condition makes it so that any emotion is universal. I know if something is bothering me, then I must write it out in order to give it power over the paper instead of power over me. This can be spread and soon everyone will feel a weight off their shoulders.
Above all else, I consider myself a writer.
I have to be.