Admit it: at one point or another, every one of us has had to read something for a class that we can’t stand. More often than not, we end up dreading it and put it off ’til the last minute. That’s me right now. I put off two reading assignments for a class in the morning and as it gets later and later at night, I’m slowly losing my ability to process larger words. Does this happen to anyone else? Of course it does.
So, I’m sitting here trying to read and I keep getting distracted by my phone, by the internet, by my friends and boyfriend, and it occurred to me: the one thing I want to do right now more than anything is write. I don’t care what it’s about, but I want to do it. Writing makes me happy, I guess that’s why I decided to major in it. Let’s face it: no one needs a college degree in writing. Usually, you can take some basic courses online or locally that could help improve your skill and technique. Hell, I was hired as a freelance reporter when I was a senior in high school with basic writing skills, but here I am: a first-year Professional Writing major.
Life’s kind of funny that way, I suppose. Everything I had thought of doing with my life didn’t need a degree, but I’m shoving out thousands of dollars a semester to be states away from family and friends to learn more about what I love. Maybe I wanted the college experience? Maybe I wanted to get away from home? I don’t know. I think I just wanted to pursue something that made me happy. I had watched people day after day do something with their lives that didn’t make them happy, but it made them money. They put up with crap for the salary. I don’t want that for my life.
I want to be able to wake up every morning, look at myself in the mirror, and be in love with the future that I created for myself. And when I’m knee-deep in debt years from now, I’m sure money will be tight. Bills will pile and it’ll be difficult, at first, to find an affordable apartment. But you know what? I wouldn’t change what I did for anything in the world. I didn’t need to come here. I could have kept my job as a freelance reporter at a small newspaper back home and made an effort to work my way up in the world. But I wouldn’t have been anywhere near as happy as I am now. I’ve made friends from all over the country–even from Mexico–because I decided to go to college for writing. I met the love of my life because of that decision, and that’s not worth giving up.
My writing is my life. It’s more than a hobby–it’s a passion. I’m making a life out of something I’m passionate about, and it’s wonderful. So, I thought I’d share a poem I wrote about a week ago for a class. My professor called it “hauntingly beautiful.” I hope you all like it!
Where Have They Gone?
By Kiera Hufford
A single sheet of paper
Lay in the center,
A stack on the side,
Surrounded by dark mahogany
And washed out pens.
Glass windows banged open,
Smacking against the soft blue
That adorned the neighboring walls.
A warm burst of air blew through,
Disrupting the calm pile.
Sheets scattered across the carpet.
Setting down his coffee,
The writer went to them,
One by one,
And picked the empty sheets up off the ground.
Sauntering back to his desk,
He lifted the coffee.
A tan stain remained in its place,
Centered on the paper,
Where words should be.
Looking to the window,
He remembered his younger years.
The stories, the novels, the words…
And he thought to himself,
“Where have they gone?”