"The old man paced aimlessly around, searching for his lost daughter," I said aloud, my voice projecting into the room.

"Stop it! Stop that!" she exclaimed, her words sending chills down my spine. My hands fidgeted, and the pile of papers in my hands fell to the ground. The sight of my scattered papers made me realize how close I was to giving up on my writing.

They laughed, pointing fingers of ridicule and rejection at me. "Can't you learn from your friends who come out here every year with science projects, fashion designs, and social media content that resonates with the world and global trends?" Tears streamed down my face. Wasn't I enough? Was I inferior to other students? "You're weak, unworthy," they taunted. "No one cares about your boring stories!" "Go do something else with your life!"

The outside voices were what I had been running from all these years, while I paid less attention to my writing. There was always this feeling of rejection whenever I shared my own craft. Was I in the wrong environment? I sighed and bent down to pick up the scattered sheets. As I reached for the last sheet of paper, a foot stepped on my hand, pressing both my hand and the paper to the ground.

"These papers, tear them into pieces. You're wasting your time picking them up. They'll take you nowhere," she said, taking the paper from my hand with an evil smile. She thought she had broken down the walls of my self-esteem and courage. Feeling defeated, yet I chose not to back down on my dreams.

She patted my shoulder. "I know you think you're better in your field, but it won't amount to much." I slapped her hand off my shoulder. "Shut up!" Her face froze. "I don't care what you say! I am a writer!" I screamed at the top of my voice. "I write to breathe, and no matter how hard you try to convince or deceive me that I can be better elsewhere, I refuse to listen to your assumed image of me. I refuse to be misled. I refuse to be distracted.

The students who had laughed at me earlier began to look concerned and interested in what I was saying. I wouldn't back down on my passion because of what they thought. "I am a writer because I love it, and I choose to stop listening to the outside voices and start giving ear to my thoughts and aspirations." The whole class suddenly stood up, clapping and cheering for me. I snatched my paper from her hands and walked out with my back straight and shoulders high.

Enough of the outside voices. It's about time I started making bold steps on my path to greatness.

© Oluwatobiloba Akinnate
© IGNITE STORIES with BIG NATÈ CREATIVES