All my life I have never been completely satisfied with my life even if everything was going fine. Maybe my thoughts have a lot to do with my misconception of others expectations of me. I was never quite sure if people wanted me to be myself and try my hardest at achieving or falsify my own morals and just succeed, even if it made me unhappy. But with these actions, good or bad intentions, I may have never found myself or my calling.
             It may have been my freshmen year when I discovered that I truly enjoy helping people. Unfortunately, helping others doesn't mean it will be perceived as help or criticism. Throughout my high school life I discovered that people who hurt you aren't the ones who dim your days, only you can create your own darkness. Classes in school aren't fun without anyone to talk to, but in my Art Class, I never cared, I drew, painted, and released. Every stroke of my brush, every mark I made , or every time I sketched, it was on paper. All of my loneliness was released, every memory of pain or heartache was captured in my painting and never to be released. When I placed my picture on the wall I realized I had a gift. It was almost a prophecy, realizing I loved to help others find ways to cope with a situation that was so unfamiliar yet so predictable.
             Through painting I had experienced a transition that involved turning pain into pride. All the paintings were my escape from my deep dark hole of confusion. I was being pulled in my own pity, but I pulled back with he strength of my self confidence and self esteem. I discovered that I want to help others find their way out of a self-dug hole of what ifs, should haves, and won'ts. I completely believe that I would be a profound psychology major, on my way to help others as well as myself. Surprisingly, now that I am 17, I am no novice to climbing out of darkness, with my flashlight made of hope, dreams, and well-being.
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