My passion for words is no secret.

I never stop talking about whatever book I’m reading or stories like these that are written in Times New Roman size 12. But with a future I’m excited about nearly in my grasp, I’ve allowed myself to dream about all the possibilities that are to come.

In some dreams of mine, I’m an author who makes a living off of creating complex characters that have redemption arcs and relatable backstories that make you feel like they’re a reflection of you. My books tell tales of love that make any hopeless romantic swoon over the acts of true passion I’ve depicted, and my name becomes a household one as my books are bought at a pace that is too fast to keep them stocked on shelves—I have a shelf in Barnes and Noble dedicated to my creations. 

In other dreams, I spend my days and a majority of my nights in an office whose walls are glass, letting me draw inspiration from the birds who fly by and the clouds that contort into shapes. I lead meetings while dressed in blazers and adorned in gold jewelry as I finalize page layouts and story titles. Ladies in nail salons carefully leaf through the pages as they soak their shellac manicures, and they adorn dentist office waiting rooms for moms waiting to be presented with their child’s cavity count.   

Some days, I imagine running around busy cities, hopping in and out of taxis as I chase down sources for whatever story topic I’m racing around to finish. I have a sling bag strung over one shoulder and my voice recorder in hand, as I dig deeper and deeper to get the answers I want from my interviewees—there isn’t much that can stop me from getting a good quote. 

In reality, I write columns and reviews and profiles and features in a never ending quest to fill my staff profile with my words—words that encapsulate who I am and words that I’ll forever be proud of.

I lead meetings in my oversized sweaters that fall off my shoulders as I move my arms to showcase my excitement on the particular topic I’m presenting. I’ve grown to not only find a home within the words I write, but the opinions I speak. The weight and power of my words has finally become known to me.

And I don’t race around a busy city for my sources; I shoot texts to other kids in my school to arrange meeting times. It’s not as difficult, but I’ve grown from a shy, timid sophomore who suffered from interview-anxiety before each meeting, to a senior who’s confident in herself and her writing ability. 

I’ve not yet decided which dream I’m more invested in, what path I’ll follow down, but I’m invigorated with what the future holds. My words will no longer be contained within the walls of this site and room 139, but they’ll make a place for themselves in this world.