As a writer, I am supposed to write about things I have experienced or have learned and related to. I am supposed to be personal because that’s what people love; they love to relate to someone and hear what they have gone through. It’s true that the best writing comes from the heart, from the deep caves of your soul, but what happens when the thing you want to write about the most isn’t exactly possible? What happens when you’re limited because the fear of being super personal can affect the way everyone looks at you and your family?

This is the first time I have ever written for a website where my name and photo is actually attached to me. It isn’t just some school paper or piece in a literary magazine. This shit is real and its my life. You read my words and see my name and its absolutely fucking terrifying to me. Here I am, posting articles to the world, not knowing who is reading my newbie writing skills. I won’t lie though, there’s a thrill to starting my writing journey and working on my talent. I get a rush when I finish a piece and send it to editing, waiting patiently to see its birth on the Internet. Then the anxiety sets in and I wonder to myself, “Shit is this good enough? Was it too personal? Fuck what if there’s a grammar mistake? What if it sounds stupid? What if my family finds it???!!” All that sets in my mind and then I have to remember, this is for my future, my career, my fucking resume. It’s for my life.

My first piece for this site was super personal, it was something that I had never wrote before, forget the fact that I was sending a piece of my life right onto the internet where anyone could see, hell this was my family I was writing about. I asked my bosses to take it down because I was afraid, I was afraid to shed negative light on my family. I mean they’ve done a lot for me right? You’re not supposed to shit on the people you love. Sure, I don’t agree with everything they say or do, God knows I have had my share of mental fatigue because of them, but does that mean it’s ok to say what I want? They have no idea this page even exists. I’m the only child who is supposed to keep quiet and just go to school and learn and become independent. I’m not supposed to write about them, but then what am I supposed to write about?

The truth, I’m afraid to talk about my feelings on certain subjects, I’m afraid to get caught by family, to hear their thoughts and reactions to it. They limit me and my words and I hate it. And they don’t even know it. I’m the good Indian daughter who tries her best to make people proud, but truth, I’m also the one that leads the double life in a way because I lie. I’m the rebel that wants to live life her way and whose family has no idea on who the hell I even am. Truth, I want both lives. I want to make my mother proud because she worked her ass off to give me the life I have now, single mothering isn’t easy at all, but being raised in an Indian household isn’t a walk through Disney World either. I want to be my own self, the girl that loves to curse, talk about sex and dreams about being a successful English major as well as the girl who says her prayers before she goes to bed at night and hope’s she’ll get married one day in the future. I want to write and not be limited. I want to be personal. But for now, until I gain that confidence, this is what you get, so thanks for reading if you got this far.