That baby was I.

Bound in a green board paper, accumulating dust in my bookshelf is my autobiography ♦ a project I had in third year high school. I have kept that book hoping that one day I could improve it. Once, I reread it and it was funny to discover so many grammatical errors, poor sentence constructions and many profound words I don’t even know now why they are there. As a consolation, I thought, that’s why editors are trained to do the editing. I was no editor and was I trying hard writer who just wanted to submit that project. I just laughed and realized how I have improved over time.

She was named Earlie, after her birthstone Pearl.

I wrote everything about me in that book ♦ from my birth date to age 14,  the time I was writing it. I interviewed my parents and grandparents so I could write about the lost memories of my childhood. I generally relate them into separate essays, which I turned into the book’s chapter. I also included some pictures, songs, poems and letters I dedicated to the members of my family and to my best friend.

The mission has been fulfilled,
Sacrifices have been done;
Now here I am lying
With my eyes closed, sleeping tight
But I will never wake again.

No more worries will come,
And happiness will take its place;
Now, I rest in God’s hands
But only some people will remember
My memories will remain.

Apart from my epitaph, I have also written there my longest poem. Tone: melancholic, made of questions of a typical teenager undergoing personality crisis.

Though that autobiography was just a school requirement, the process of writing helped me to discover many things about myself. Keeping it is more than an accomplishment, it is a lived life, which I can easily go back to.