When my mother sent me to school my first year, she gave me four things to carry in my colorful backpack: a hand-packed lunch, slender wooden pencil, wide-lined notebooks, and my favorite book.
The lunch tasted like home and reminded me of my younger brother and sister, who would hopefully miss playing with me before they complained about taking a nap, and I could share the little edible treasures with my peers around me, creating instant friends with cookies.
I remember last year, I wrote all these essays talking about philosophy relating to human thoughts and the environment. That really helped me reflect on what kind of writer I am. It opened a whole new door within my mind that I didn't even know existed.
At first, I didn't think I could write essays like those. Once I started, I realized I had a lot to say and all these logical ideas started pouring out. Obviously I had to end the essays, which was sort of a crap shoot at times because there was still so much left to type out. I was pretty amazed with myself for coming up with such wonderful pieces of work.