As a writer, I draw inspiration from my experiences, whether they may be unfortunate pitfalls or terrific triumphs. Growing up as an American with Indian parents is the most obvious struggle of my life. Not only have I been born an American citizen, but also I have been to boarding school and lived in each state along the east coast. Along with my experiences, I have gained a great deal of gratitude for where I am now and I have also instilled an everlasting independence within myself. While my parents and I obviously do not see eye to eye, they have given me the strength to go through life. I never sought to be a writer, for I was always an avid reader. When no one knew how to read in kindergarten, I did. While my parents barely spoke English, I immersed myself in it. As I grew older, I settled down in a Augusta, GA, a place I can call home. There as I grew up, my writing was merely poetry, babblings of my troubled mind. As I went through school, I developed a voice as a writer. As I wrote more and more, my cynicism was veiled through flowery writing or blunt snippets. As I grow older, I am drawn more and more to writing. As a Fashion Merchandising major, I aspire to develop my own clothing line while also being able to write editorials for a Fashion magazine. Even though my goals are high, my grammar is poor. My schooling has taught me a million synonyms, but failed to teach me the purpose of a semi-colon. Basically, I have a million thoughts and no outlet. When I find the right spark of inspiration, my piece is complete. These moments are fast and fleeting.