It was not easy growing up. I always felt like nobody understands me, the passion I have is immeasurable. Even at school, science and commerce were taken more seriously than other careers. You could see by the way they walked and dressed, you could swear they were already doctors and accountants.
“A man cannot live by bread alone.” All I ever needed was a piece of paper and a pen to write my thoughts out and that is the moment I would feel alive again and now it has become my addiction.
My marks on accounting dropped bit by bit though it was not my intentions to focus on one thing. I felt like if they had let me focus on both, then I would give as much time to accounting. However, it was just an attitude I had as mother would always say, “Positive attitudes lead to positive outcomes.” She would always say that with worry in her eyes.
I know she meant no harm but wanted what’s best for me but on this I don‘t think she really knew what my heart desired. A pen and a paper.
There was this time at class during accounting lessons, I had fallen into deep thoughts as usual did. I had my pen and a piece of paper, writing. I was woken up by a bang of a pen in front of me. It was my teacher who had repeatedly called me as means of getting an answer. Actually, I don‘t blame her, seeing that I was now one of the high-risk students. I lifted my eyes up, and like an angry lion, she stared at me. Other students were sarcastically giggling.
“Throw that rubbish away!” she furiously ordered.
Rubbish? How could she?
Without saying anything, I quickly shove it inside my bag, stood up and ran as fast as I could, hoping to go far away where nobody could find me. I had left the bag behind and instead of trying to stop me, she curiously took my bag by means of finding out what was on that paper. But there were plenty, so she unfolded each to check which one could lead me to that kind of behaviour.
She paused for a moment, now the tears were running down her cheeks, and went out, leaving the class so lost in the mist.
Next morning I entered the class, already prepared my apology speech. To my surprise she warmly welcomed me with a gift bag with something inside wrapped around it, like a chocolate.
It was not my birthday, plus I last left the class on bad terms between us. I unwrapped and opened it, she gave me permission this time. Gosh! I couldn’t believe that it was a diary…
“Seeing your work I knew I had to do something, so take it, you need it,” she said with a smile on her face.
Now the class got emotional and we all cried tears of joy. Today as a reward, every day before we start class I give them some inspiration, and I always write everything up in my diary.