Reflecting upon some of the most striking situations in my life, l have found the one that deserves to be shared. Before l begin , a quick disclaimer goes that the description will be conveyed in an objective fashion as much as possible, so do not be quick to judge that it is contrived in an exaggerated subjective manner. It was cold that day, and every school boy or girl was in the mood for discovering something new –it did not necessarily have to be academic knowledge. That was a 5-minute recess in which fellow students were engaged in different activities : some ,who are considered to be attached to the blackboard , were getting prepared to the next class; some, who are mostly boisterous gangs , were on the way to concoct another amusing prank ; the rest were outliers , being engrossed in rather unconvential actions. Among those aforementioned types, there was one type whose members were limited to one spoiled girl ,Safiya. She was the luckiest mass upon whom both wealth and beauty were bestowed by God. She had another special quality whereby she employed in manipulating people easily ; her unusual beauty , financial power ,and the canniness made all the mates in class be what she wanted them to be . Coming to the event itself , extensively described character Safiya entered the classroom , with some trivial yet kill-the-time delicacies in hand , and abruptly went into rage with Sara, one whose self-esteem would beg for strength . Safiya threw an invective of profane words at Sara without even giving her a chance to say a mere word. In that instant , the rest of the class were paralyzed doing nothing other than staring at the one-sided quarrel , which led Safiya to slap Sara in the face by availing herself of the meek prey's dormant state.( Well, you may say that 5- minute break can not tolerate such a thing to occur , but with the belated presence of the proceeding lesson's teacher , the conditions were conducive).Contrary to everybody's expectations, Sara did not even blink ; instead, she stood still and said, “l did not say anything about you”.Time gave the abuser to continue no longer when a sound of someone's foot stepping came to ear: perfect timing was it to sense the stepping for Safia to prepare to play a role of an abused martyr. The teacher came and yelled, “ who is so daring to break my rules by loudly betraying offensive words ?” Safiya instantaneously turned into a meek, feeble victim who feigned to have been slapped by Sara. The whole class, authentic witnesses of the case, were stuck and did not tell the truth about what actually happened.The teacher then gave Sara a punishment that was to mop all the floors at school .So humiliating and barbaric it was , no soul dared to say a word since students were equally afraid of Safiya as of the teacher. I was one of the eyewitnesses who could not do anything but waiting for someone else to speak up. Throughout the whole lesson, l could not concentrate because of that morally dismissive situation l happened to witness. For several days after the very day, l scolded myself inside for letting the innocent clean the entire floors of the school.One day, l even begged Sara's pardon for making all these happen to her: she forgave. Still ,l could not forgive myself since Safia is enjoying from her tricks and all-freely-dispensed wealth , even though she put someone else into a mired state. However , since then, l decided to garner confidence , and l started to reveal all the tricks she was playing with the kids .That revealing and standing up for honesty turned me into her enemy , but l genuinely embraced that. So the moral of the story is that becoming an onlooker can mean something , and telling the true record of the situation could even save someone's life ( in my case, it was more of a smaller punishment : mopping floors). From that horrible situation onwards, I have been striving to be honest , outspoken , and most importantly a good eyewitness . In the coming years, I hope not to be a reticent person and try to bolster my capability to be brutally honest towards people and not make any other innocent person be a victim of maliciously cunning masses.

Writing has always come easily to me. That isn't to say that my writing is anything special, only that when it comes to sitting down and putting a bunch of words together I think I'm pretty dang alright at it. I've met people that say they have such a hard time writing but it's difficult for me to understand that. Those same people always try to attribute my lack of understanding on the matter to my education (I have a degree in English) but the truth to that is I wouldn't have pursued a degree in this subject if I wasn't already good at it. I'm being 100% honest – being pro-active is not my strong suit. If it comes between making a decision of taking the “easy” route or the “hard (but, in the long run, more beneficial because it teaches you about hard work, perseverance and blah blah blah)” route I'm not going to think too long on which one I'd prefer to take. Essays in college were a breeze, although I'm still sometimes shocked at the quality of work I was able to produce under the circumstances I put myself in. Example: its 8pm the night before my 16 page essay on [insert some literary debate here] is due. I have yet to open a word document. Sure, I've put some thought into what I want to write. That's the hardest part, right? Sitting down and putting all my thoughts into words in one cohesive structure just came so easily to me. I think it has something to do with the amount of privacy you have while writing. No one is listening to you stumble through your words or hearing your attempts at constructing a well worded sentence. You have complete privacy to say what you're thinking. You have the ability to rewrite and reorganize your words. You can take a minute to think on exactly which word best articulates the thought you are trying to express and, if you don't like it, can decide to change it later. You can't do that when you're talking. Well, I suppose you could but it would be weird. This brings me to my road bump when it comes to writing – who will be reading my words? Because, like I said, I consider writing very private. Concern of who will read my writing once I'm finished is a huge deal to me. With college essays it didn't matter much because I knew the person reading my essay would be someone educated on the subject I had written about and would be judging my words based on my display of knowledge on the subject. That isn't too intimidating because it's not creative writing. It's not something that would unveil ideas and thoughts that completely originated in my mind. I once took a Science Fiction class in college and for the final we had to write a creative sci-fi short story. That terrified me. Completely and utterly terrified me. I couldn't hide behind facts and information that were accessible to everyone on a subject that has been widely discussed for years. These would be words and thoughts that were 100% my own. Had this not been an assignment and I was writing something for myself that I could decide who, if anyone, could read it I think I would have enjoyed writing it much more. Once the story was done I began second guessing all of my ideas. Is that really original or am I completely ripping something off? Is this plot even believable? Does it make sense at all? Those were my road bumps. The actual process of writing the story came effortlessly – thoughts into words. Easy. Having to deal with my thoughts on them afterwards – yikes. Turns out my instructor thought it was great and so did the select few I shared it with. They all told me I had a “gift” and should be very proud. This made me feel uncomfortable. Receiving praise for something that came so easily to me didn't seem merited or earned. I truly felt as though I made no effort. I've always sort of blushed when people make comments like these and brush them off faster than they can be laid on me. Only recently have I decided to try to embrace this “talent” I have and attempt to open myself up to the possibilities it may grant me. The catalyst for this change of thought occurred yesterday when someone told me how talented and gifted I was after reading a cover letter I wrote for a job. A cover letter. A simple, short, nothing-special piece of writing that I was trying to use to convince someone to hire me. I finally decided that I should try to start sharing my writing with people. So here I was with this brave (ha) new confidence. I went online to see where I could put this bravery to the test. The first think I came across was Biopage, and they were asking for people to submit writing on the subject of… anything they wanted. Well shoot, if there's anything else further from a prompt I don't know what it is. This project called for me to come up with something 100% on my own for others to read and it was perfect. So here I am. I sat down and just started writing. I figured talking about why I was here was as good as anything else I could come up with. So now I'm ready to get my ideas out there, terrified as I may be.