Who Am I As a Writer - Part 1
No spells or magic could be casted to change things. There was no app. Heck, iPhones weren't even invented. I had to do things on my own. There was only one way, practicing.
So I would practice all day every day. I would do it in church, in class, in the car, and even in my sleep. My favorite place to do it was in secret. No one and - I mean NO ONE - knew about my diary.
I wrote all of my stories and secrets there. It was my best friend. Until one day - one of the worse days of my life, my sister stole my book. She wrote, "I hate Kandy." all over it.
"Val! Why would you write this?! What is wrong with you!" My grandmother yelled and accused me, based off of my sister's lie.
"I didn't write that. That's not even my hand writing Mommy..." I prayed that she believed me but instead she smacked me, so hard that my lip bled.
Then, she took my journal and wrote, "I hate Val!" all over it.
That hurt more than my swollen lip. At that moment, I stopped writing.