For as long as I can remember, I have felt different. Some of that difference came from struggles people could see, and some came from parts of myself I kept hidden. Both shaped who I am and why I am so passionate about writing.
I did not learn how to read until I was 13 years old. For most of my childhood, I sat in classrooms feeling embarrassed and behind. When it was time to read out loud, my heart would pound so loudly I was sure everyone could hear it. I avoided eye contact and prayed the teacher would skip over me. I felt ashamed, like I was carrying a secret that proved I was not smart enough. Watching other students flip through books so easily made me question myself constantly.
Around that same time, I was also becoming aware of another part of my identity. I am a closeted queer woman. Growing up, I always felt slightly out of place, like I was observing life from the outside. I noticed my feelings did not always match what was expected of me, but I did not feel safe or ready to express that. So I stayed quiet. Between struggling to read and hiding such a big part of myself, silence became something I was used to.
When I turned 13, something in me shifted. I was tired of feeling powerless. I decided that if no one could teach me in the way I needed, I would teach myself. I started with whatever was around me. I read billboards while riding in the car. I studied cereal boxes at the breakfast table. I sounded out words slowly, sometimes repeating them until they finally made sense. It was frustrating, and there were nights I wanted to quit. But little by little, the words began to click.
The moment I could truly read on my own changed my life. What once felt impossible became something I could not get enough of. I fell in love with books. I would stay up late reading, completely lost in stories. I could not put a book down even if I tried. Through reading, I found characters who felt different, misunderstood, or hidden in some way. Their stories made me feel seen in a way real life sometimes did not.
That love for reading naturally turned into writing. Writing became my way of speaking when I did not feel brave enough to speak out loud. On paper, I could explore identity, belonging, and the complicated emotions I had buried for years. I could create characters who lived honestly, even when I was still learning how to do that myself. Writing gave me control over my narrative in a way life had not always allowed.
I am currently writing a novel that I hope to publish within the next four years. It reflects the themes that have shaped me: resilience, self discovery, and the courage to exist fully. My challenges, both academic and personal, did not break me. They gave me perspective. They taught me empathy. Most importantly, they gave me a voice. Writing is not just something I enjoy. It is proof of how far I have come and a way to make sure no one who feels different has to feel alone.