Writing, A simple noble piece of art known to man,
The most beautiful subject In the history of beautiful subjects,
Even thou you sit there, bewildered, wondering just what to write about makes
your brain go pshhht!
Brainstorming could be the best, but when you are crazy about writing stories and writing
beautiful creative novels at age of sixteen, I would never choose a diffrent talent that I already have,
Who am I? I am Jennifer Arvayo. While other teens my age are out there
going to amazing raves, parties, cool kickbacks, I am here writing to you.
I am here in the middle of a dark room thinking of what to write about. My future involves
writing. My destined future might just be the authority to the english writing of the state. I admit, I am the school nerd as you like to call me. I dont wear bowtie, I dont wear my suspenders, that is stereotype my friends. I am just a girl who wears normal clothes every normal day at a normal high school. This is were I belong, This is my true place to be, sure my talent is no sport or art or medial arts, but writing and journalism is my thing and i will succeed at being the best at it as I can.
You might read this tittle and wonder,
Well my friends, I am not discovered yet.
I am a writer at heart.
I am anonymous.
Nobody knows me.
If you had time to read my blogs,
Then I wont be anonymous for long.
I want to be discovered as a writer.
A teen writer.
I want to be somebody different
I want to have a name.
I Dont want to be the called "The one girl who writes."
I want to be recognized..
As a young destined to be writer.
I want to be talented.
Well I am talented,
I want to be read,
Please spread this to anyone you know!
I am a girl who wants to be called
Jennifer Arvayo! The girl who loves to write!
What is that feeling called when your belly goes insane!?
When your heart races fast like if its a >prize winning possession??
How come when I am around him, I get feelings like this?
You know what I am talking about, right?
I am sitting on his couch. Right next to him. He looks at me I look at him, he looks away. All of the sudden, my cheeks. My cheeks are as red as a tomato. A new tomato that you get when you berly harvest. His eyes are as beautiful as the American sea when the beautiful sun rises. His lips are as soft as the newborn >baby skin. The smile he loves to hide is as handsome as in my dreams.
I believe that I am falling for an angel. Or ,, I am falling for my hero. The same hero who told me at heart to stay positive and think right.
Previous PostsTeen Writer~, posted December 20th, 2012
The Anonymous!, posted December 20th, 2012
Is it love?, posted December 20th, 2012
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