Maybe it was a lifetime ago.

What was something that made you happy and was life changing, and happened to you a “lifetime” ago? I have a list of things, but I’ll only list one.

The thing that seemed to happen a lifetime ago was the birth of my little sister, when I was seven. She didn’t want to come out of the womb, so my mom was stuck at the hospital for a really long time. One day, my dad was rushed to the hospital because my mom was in labor, which I didn’t know the definition of at the time. I stayed up all night, waiting for my dad to come back. I was only able to stay awake by reading the same two picture books over and over again – a children’s version of Peter Pan and Old MacDonald. When it was five a.m. in the morning, my oldest brother woke up. I pretended to be asleep because I thought I would get into trouble. Two hours before noon, my dad came back, saying my little sister was born. We came to the hospital, which was about an hour drive. When we got there, I was the first one out of my siblings to see my long-hoped-for sister. She just woke up when I got there, and I was allowed to carry her. She grabbed a hold on my pinky finger and had a death hold on it. She didn’t even let go after I placed her back in the little “bed” that was hers. After that day and while she was still in the hospital, I always went with my dad to go and visit her. I read all my favorite stories to her, and she actually seemed to listen.

Do you have something that seems as if it might’ve happened a lifetime ago? A memory you treasure? Maybe you could share it. Maybe make a post and add “maybe it was a lifetime ago” into the tags. Maybe you could share it in the comments. No memory is meant to be forgotten, even the bad ones. To quote Momiji from Fruits Basket, “But I think… I want to live with all my memories. Even if they’re bad memories. Even if they’re memories that only hurt me… that I’d rather forget. If I keep them and keep trying, without running away, then someday I’ll be strong enough that those memories can’t defeat me. I believe that because I want to think that there’s no such thing as a memory that’s ok to forget.”





I have a hard time speaking correctly…

I have to be honest here. I can’t speak correctly at all. In my head, my voice sounds a quarter decent. But if I listen to a recording of my voice, it sounds horrid. Absolutely horrible, disgusting, mortifying, and embarrassing. I’m self-conscious about how I talk, and whenever I take my attention off the way I’m speaking, my voice becomes even worse than it already is.
People don’t understand that it’s not my fault that I can’t pronounce my R’s correctly, or my “sh” “ch” “tch” “ir” “er” “or” “ear”, and a lot more. It’s not as if I try to make my voice all weird. I want to have a clear-pitch-perfect voice like a lot of people do, because some of my dreams are to be a singer, or an actress, but I can’t do that with the way my voice is made. But none of it is my fault. It’s the way God made me, and I’ll try to be happy with it.

I get so sad and disappointed when I see someone lose interest in the conversation after I say something uncomprehend-able.  It really gets to me, and it’d ruin my entire day. Sometimes I’d get so upset that I’d cry for hours. I don’t like not being heard correctly. I think not getting heard correctly is even worse than not getting a chance to say something – because when you get a chance, you want to use it. And most of my chances to speak up are ruined.

Because I was always misheard, I started to not talk as much. Even when I became eight years old, I still pronounced words like a much younger child would. It was so embarrassing, and I didn’t know why people didn’t say anything. People encouraged me to read books to myself. I was so fast at reading that I couldn’t talk out loud.

Whenever I go into stores, employees would have hard time understanding me. A good example of that is when I was looking for a book called Lemonade Mouth, and I couldn’t find it. So I asked one of the staff members, and she thought that I was saying “Lemonade Men.”
What? How could Lemonade Mouth become Lemonade Men?? Well, when I speak, that could happen.

My family and close friends have gotten used to how I speak, but still, every once in a while they’d look away from me after I said something, not knowing what I said. Every once in a while, they’d ask me to repeat myself because nothing that I said was comprehendible.

That’s why I love going onto computers and on the internet. People can hear me without actually hearing. I can tell people about my ideas, my personality, my books, through my fingers. The way I speak is one of the reasons I named this blog “My Million Words Must Be Heard.” I want to be known on this Earth somehow other than my bad speaking abilities. I don’t want people to be giggling or mocking me every time I turn my back. I want to be heard, and heard correctly.

I have a problem that anyone could have, but I don’t see (or hear) that many people who have it. My aunt tells me to keep trying, my mom tells me to keep practicing.

Well, I’ve been practicing for a long while now. But the thing is, I guess I should be glad that God made me this way. Because usually, if I keep my mouth shut and don’t say anything, I actually think of something easier to say, and something that is better to say and would sound weird – and not in just pronunciation, too. This problem I have – it’s made me even more grateful that I want to be a writer. If I didn’t want to be a writer, there’d be no way for my voice to be heard, because I’m a voice among the millions that are here, but I also have something to say. I have something that should be told. I have a story, like everybody else does. And this speaking problem won’t keep me back from chasing my dreams.

Well, I’m not new to WordPress, thank you very much.

I’m actually not that experienced with blogging, if I may say so myself.

The thing is, I can’t wait to see more of the world. Yes, I am young, but I have so many ideas and I’m not going to stop for the world. I’m tired of being pushed around. I’m tired of being told to be someone else. Because altogether, I can only be me.

I’m a published author, and I’m only eleven. I wrote a novel when I was ten, and the first time I ever read a novel when I was five or six.?
You know, I think I might’ve been born to be a writer. I think I might be here on this world to show that dreams can come true every once in a while.

If you’re interested into poetry, then please check out the book (that I published!) called Bittersweet on Amazon. Here’s a link:
If you have a deviantART account, you can find me here:
If you have a Young Writers’ NaNoWriMo account, I’m EZforever over there (I can’t post a link because it won’t really work unless you’re a member.)
If you have a FictionPress account, I’m MillionWords: