It began a couple of years ago, when I wanted to improve my English writing skills.
It was difficult coming down to a country that has a different mother tongue. I hated writing at first, and my primary school teacher would make me summarise stories in the newspaper to improve my skills.
I could write well, but not well enough. I then started to write for fun, just for the sake of letting my imagination run wild. I imagined so many things that I was able to write nearly 50 pages on this old computer at home. It was filled with grammar and spelling mistakes, but that doesn't stop me. As the old computer burned down, so did the story.
One day, Mom approached me and told me that I had to go back and read what I wrote and repair it myself to see how far I'd come. I laughed at my own work and repaired what I could.
It's amazing to think back to when I was forced to write in English, and now I adore writing. It is not about the love to write but the ability to express. It became my method of releasing stress.
Writing isn't that bad when you get used to it. It's another way of releasing thoughts. It's better than telling others how I feel and think.
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