Self-Portrait Essay

In my freestyle English class I was assgined to create a personal essay about myself. This essay was to help me discover my true identity, who I really am not just to my friends and famlity, but to myself as well. After creating this essay I learned that I have a voice which was strange for me because I am always shy, and don't like to speak up for myself, but after writing my essay I leraned that my essay is the voice that speaks for me because I enjoy writing. I enjoy creating visual images of my world in a written document. I enjoy creating a new story each time I wirte on a peice of paper. I love to inspire people with words of wisdom, meaning and tone. I leraned that I am an inspirational girl who wants to inspire others.

Voice

The fragile sound of a breath can make your eardrums bleed. I felt cold dew drops oozing out of my pores, slipping, slowly down my temple traveling towards the hill of my cheek.I never knew how much I could tremble in front of my own peers. I watched, one by one, every student stand before me, and spoke the language of silence. “Rocio” said my English teacher, and for the first time, I felt my heart stop. Hearing the words of my name made me shiver. I knew, I knew I was next. Slowly I stood up, trembling as I passed my teacher a copy of my dreadful creation. It felt like an entirety walking towards that white podium.Shuffling my feet slowly on the floor, I looked at my audience, and froze.

It was only a mere twenty- five people in that room, yet it felt like a million bullets were shot from their eyes straight through my soft fragile tissue. My arms trembled like maracas. I took a long deep breath. My heart throb faster than a beating drum, the palms of my hands were sweaty like oozing liquid soap. I looked at my peers for a moment, my palms bloody, not realizing the cause was from gripping on my note cards so tensely. I constantly told myself “you can do this” until the words were repeatedly twisted into my mind like a coiled snake. I have forgotten, forgotten that my speech was too long for the five minute mark the teacher had recommended for my class.

Knowing I will not finish what I’ve created, I spoke the language of the cheetah, trying to claw my way out of the pit of anxiety.I realized I haven’t even begun to read the second page of my speech, my legs were about to give from the rumble of my trembling legs, but then, for a moment I felt a sudden urge to fly. Halfway in my second page, I changed the tone of my voice, and spoke fiercely like a lion.I spoke faster, and faster, I raced against the terror of time, roaring in pain, then suddenly I was struck by lighting.

I failed, I failed to prove myself I can beat time, and I regretted not preparing myself for the five minute speech. I looked at my note cards, and saw I have only made it to my fourth page. The sudden feeling of flight killed by the ruthless murder of time.I remember the feeling of temptation, I wanted to give into despair so badly when I failed my presentation. I wanted to give in to the sour taste of surrender when I spoke. I hated myself, I wanted to do better, to try again. Yet I had to accept what I was given, I told myself, “I never want to write again, for as long as I lived!”

The sweet taste of freedom can be tranquilized by the sour smell of anxiety. I was paralyzed once again, hearing the word “presentation” gave me a cold chill down my coily back. A new year, new start, and immediately I had to present again. Eached student individual presented a presentation about their media piece. I was amazed to have witness such beautiful works of art that resembled what they have learned, individually, during their past experiences. My body danced into the rhythm like shaky maracas, my hands drizzled out the hot sensation of steamed air. I kept praying hoping I would be called next instead of last. “Rocio” hearing my name called from the ruler who controls my grade, gave me the sweet sensation of relief.

I stood in front of my peers and took a step back, my body was trembling like a newborn trying to walk for the first time. I took a long deep breath, and slowly released the air out of my lungs until I see a white ghost in front of me. The words flew out of me like race cars, I spoke, I explained, I used my words to compare who I am. After a moment of silence the audience literally froze as if they couldn't speak. They were stunned, speechless, the silence broke when a peer called me a genius. I was proud of myself, I received the grade I desired. I felt a sensation of a million butterflies dancing all over my tender skin, and felt the warmth of a thousand suns kissing my ears.

Even though I failed to receive the grade I wanted for my first paper, I received the pleasure of using my mistake that unwind the screw of my true potential . People may not realize their true potential, until they receive the gift of appreciation. In our society many individuals do not realize the true capability of a voice. A voice is a gift that guides humans to their success, it is up to the human to use their voice for better, or worse. Many inspiring speakers, like Martin Luther King Jr., Winston Churchill, and etc, use their own voice to make a difference in society. And their words still ring back to our ears till this day. Its true, I can never truly escape the grasp of writing, yet I understand the benefits that lie within a written document. Writing was the key that unlocked my voice.