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Strolling along the narrow grassy land surrounded by trees, of whom are now my friends, barefooted..but altogether happy.
; I've never believed in being perfect,but in the verb 'perfecting'.
My first dream occupation was to become an author , and along the way , I decided to become an illustrator of my own as well . Yeah , go ahead , laugh . I was a little kid with huge dreams , and such big confidence and persistence , I could probably blow your mind away . When I set my mind to do something , I made sure I did it .
I wanted to be the youngest author to ever publish a novel in Malaysia. Yeah, as cheezy as that sounds, that was me. I could remember the first time I started writing , I wrote my name millions of times everywhere. I started composing my own stories when I was six, on typical brown exercise books which were bought from my brother's school. On every alternate page, I would draw a picture of how the story looked like at that moment. Whenever I showed them to my parents,they would tell me they look pretty,and I was pretty convinced they were so. But,honestly speaking,looking at them right now, they look quite terrible - Girls with huge heads, inhumanly long necks & precariously placed objects on top of tables which would have failed to even hold up in real life.
But, I didn't care. I love English, and I love fiction stories as much as I love cookies; In fact, I found writing stories relaxing that I could use it as a tool to help me fall asleep at night. When I was eight, I had let my grandfather read a chapter of my story I had written, as his birthday present.
I took lots of classes on English. I improved, I guess. Well, I felt like I did. Except, that, when I reached 12,I had a lot of negative feedback on my essays. And somehow everything just stopped. I stopped writing. I stopped liking English,because what all the teachers were expecting from me were factual essays with seriousness and not a hint of humor or imagination in sight.
Me forgetting the happiness I found in writing stories happened so gradual, that I didn't even notice any change. But,somehow,in the beginning of December,it suddenly loomed over me that I should start writing again.
I used to have a truckload of ideas on stories,and I got discouraged when I couldn't think of a single one,when I opened Microsoft Word to start a brand new chapter, to a brand new story.
But it's going to be Chinese New Year, and when I was 7-11, that would be the time period where I would write the most all in one day.
What I would do was to write them out on Microsoft Word and print them out at the end of the day. Then read it at night, elaborate on the story a little bit more, grow tired, and fall asleep.
That was how it was. Some people have told me, once you had let go of your passion in doing something, you won't ever find the joy in doing the thing anymore. I don't know who to believe.
But,I guess,I'm going to try all over again? It shouldn't hurt to try. Yes, this Chinese New Year. Chapter 1.