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The narrative of my own history as a writer is a very long one. My writing has come full circle. I have changed very much throughout the years, equally as I grew old and as I discovered more facets of my own personality. The growth that I see when I return is incredible, and it appears to revolve around my emotions. I've always been a really emotional girl who believes things keenly. All of my truly memorable composing, looking back, has come out of encounters that struck a chord with my own growing self. This assignment has opened my eyes, despite my first difficulty in writing it. After I was asked to write down my earliest memory of writing, at first I drew a blank. All of a sudden, it became really clear for me, likely because it had some childhood trauma associated with that. I have to have really been a very little woman, probably about four years old. The memory is somewhat fuzzy, but I do remember that I had been gloomy and that I had been made to stand at the corner of the dining area consequently. I think I was being penalized for my antics at the dinner table. While I stood there feeling incredibly sorry for myself personally, I could hear the rest of my loved ones from the other room talking and laughing. This just made me feel much more sad and lonely than previously. I began to feel neglected and now that I decided that my mother had forgotten about me. I quickly attained boredom, as most young kids do when left alone. So I started looking about, and lo and behold - that I spied a crayon laying on the floor next to my foot. I picked up the crayon (red, I believe it had been), and I made a choice. I was going to do it against my barbarous punishment! I realized that the crayon in my small hand and that I equaling "HELP ME!" On the wall at my own corner! I don't really know wh...