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You must remember every scar

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“The only requirement,” to be a writer, “is the ability to remember every scar.”

I have a few scars (and you do, too). There’s that girl in the eighth grade, my father’s illness in the seventh, and there was that boy earlier than that who told me to shut up every time I spoke to him. When did I learn to fear my voice? The true writer enters into wounds. Sometimes she enters into her own, often into the wounds of others, and occasionally even into the wounds of people she makes up. The writer enters into wounds because she knows when she confronts the wound, she will discover the secret of life (wounds turn to beautiful scars). What wound do you need to confront?

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I still cannot stand the color pink...I am a woman after all and I detest pink..After so many years when I see the color, my heartbeat excell so fast that even michael schumacher would be able to beat me in this car race...

I am so excited, I'm turning six today. Mom and dad went to buy all the party stuff, I wanted to enjoy it by my uncles house. He told me he has a surprise for me, I cannot wait. He always tells me he loves me and brings me gifts. I am a big girl now, oh how I longed to hear these words always as every one says your too small.

He called me to his room and gave me a box with the most beautiful pink dress. My eyes shown with excitement and asked him to help me put it on. Gently he dressed me and put make up on my face...I never looked so pretty before. He gave me a kiss on my cheek and said I look beautiful. Hearing these words was like the first drops of rain in a dry forest. My brother & cousins always taunt me that I'm the ugly duckling in the family. He is taking photos of me and tells me how to pose ...

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YOU MUST REMEMBER EVERY SCAR
You must remember every scar .....is a story I figure out of inspiration and come to think about it.......its true....that everyone must       I still have more to say on that...... I was 11 when I moved from my town to the city. My Aunt and Uncle run a school. I was in going to my second year of high school. I wasn't very fluent at speaking English but I understood perfectly. I was leaving a town where my I was popular, and families and friends loved me. It wasn't easy to communicate and I had to learn alot. My parents could not be compared to my new classmates because their standard of living was much higher. This was the first hit on my self esteem. They had done many things I had not done and they were proud of it. The most difficult was their way of life. The way they joke, communicate was totally different so as a person that was very outspoken I became quite. The fact that I was totally different from them made me an easy target to pick on and yet I had no one to talk to about my problems. It was a boarding school so I had to live with their insults everyday. I lost my self esteem, the image of who I was, I became extremely shy unless when angry, I became sensitive and I always saw myself as lower than them. It was hard and I couldn't even tell my parents about it. I had to survive on my own. I was someone that loved answering questions, acting and being involved in everything around me. I loved being important. But I lost all this in one go. I learnt later on around the time I was in senior year that they actually didn't mean to be like that. That was how they lived their lives and I only misunderstood because of the feeling of being lower than them because they were rich. I realized this too late , when I had changed too much and became self centered. These scars will forever be there but I'm more confident now and I am still discovering myself. It was a great opportunity moving to the city because I learnt alot and I also became a better me in another way by staying there for all those years. I don't regret it and I love that it's now part of my story.         We will cont'd next time

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