He turned off the TV. It was June of 2007, I was only but nine years old. My mother and father were single-handedly going to tell me the most devastating news of my life, and all I could think about was how my dad interrupted Kim Possible, right before the resolution.

At the time, I couldn't grasp the full meaning of it all: it wasn't our faults, they still loved us, I would move in with my mom, she found a nice little home, I'd still see my dad, it'd be joint custody. The realization didn't hit until months later: when it was too late to go back and change- to appreciate-to remember the past. No longer could I enjoy having a "normal" life; no longer could I enjoy the presence of both of my parents waking up in the wee hours of the morning before heading off on their daily commute; no longer could I enjoy the goodnight kisses before being tucked in each night. No longer could I enjoy my "picture perfect" family, or any of the simple pleasures which I had previously taken for granted; it was a picture of the past. I could only move forward.

Starting school late in a new "hometown" was difficult, and I wasn't spared the persistence of bullies; I, like most overweight insecure preteens, was unhappy. I cried for my old life, my old friends, but everything that I had previously known was irrelevant now.

So I did the only thing I knew how to do: I wrote. Inspired by the heavy writing curriculum at my new school, I buried myself in my homework: enjoying essays and finding my passion in short stories, putting my imagination to work. I created my own happy fictitious realities; I befriended characters whom I created. Soon enough, my essays and short stories were highlighted weekly and read aloud to the class.

This only inspired me more; going onto middle school and later high school I continued to pursue my passion. Listening to my ever-encouraging English teachers (the only readers I could ever entrust with my work), I started submitting essays, poems, and short stories into the world for a chance at being published. When I didn’t get published, I didn’t give up. I kept writing, developing my skills until a website recognized my talent and rated my essay number one, proving that I could make a success of myself when I tried. 

I didn't give up at the end of my junior year when I ran for "Miss Teen," the exemplary face of my high school. Pushing myself, I faced my fears and stood on stage, panicking as I shared for the first time, my work of art- my slam poem- to the world. This poem described my every struggle, (every struggle that every average teen faces) and it took great courage to stand under the spotlight, spilling out my every passion as the spotlight magnified me, illuminated me, for the world to see. The pageant ended and I was a mere runner-up, but still, I couldn't be more proud of myself. I am not a person to jump at an opportunity to shine, and there were multiple times when I wanted to call it quits. But I didn't; instead, I grew: I jumped, I flew.

And I will fly throughout my journey. I will take chances, I will delve into and discover my passions, I will live. Because that's all you can do in life; you can't plan out every detail- every resolution. And I won't know every resolution, whether it be Kim Possible or the result of this essay. But the least I can do is try.