I looked outside my window and stared at the sky. A colorful arc of light brightened gray clouds. It was a smile after the storm, a sign things were getting back to normal. Beautiful. Peaceful. Simply magical.
Life took a toll on me. Dragged me through mud, hurt me everywhere, made my heart bleed and my head explode. Yet, I survived. I made it. I considered myself a champion. Stronger than ever. I could defeat an army of haters and still come back victorious. Nothing scared me anymore. I let my thoughts digress and reminisced about the day I sat on the top of my hill, staring at the horizon, feeling a bit awkward, insecure about my looks, my intelligence, my future…. I believed nobody would ever want me, like me, appreciate my company. I believed my freedom would be limited to the world I knew, and I despised this world so much, it saddened me to imagine being stuck here forever.
Determination. Strength. Will power. I woke up and stood my ground. So what if nobody liked me? If boys found me ugly? If classmates called me stupid? I felt good enough to keep fighting. Nothing would stand in my way. Nothing would make me stall. Like the rainbow after the storm, I’d pierce through clouds and shine over earth, bringing a smile to everybody’s faces.
And suddenly, a book caught my attention – an excellent read I’d suggest to anybody: Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand. Beyond the philosophical ideas and the political stance she supported, she introduced to the world a series of characters that believed in themselves and never walked away from their inner truths. They displayed confidence, self-control, maturity, passion. I fell in love with the writing, and with the story. I adored it so much; I considered this read to be a milestone. What I thought had been written by somebody else, as if the author had entered my mind and learned my darkest secrets. These words spoke to me with so much reality; I didn’t know how I could exist without them. They impressed me. They changed me. They transformed my vision of the world. Mostly, they made me a better individual.
I hope to have the same power with my words. Writing a story that will mean so much to the reader that his/her life will be altered forever. I want my story to have a meaning. To deliver a message. To make people feel great about themselves, to empower them. To make them feel reborn.
Like any other form of art, writing is the trigger of something bigger. I’d rather try and fail, than not try at all. But I want to be part of this. I dream of the day my books will stand on a library shelf, and a hand will grab one of them, browse through the pages and learn something new. Only then, I’ll consider my job done.