Creativity from Tragedy Dylan W

I remember sobbing with my face pressed against the wooden swing set in my backyard while my parents yelled at each other on the patio. I remember playing with my toys in my room only to go hide in the darkness of my closet because my parents were in the midst of an intense argument. I remember hating my home life because I knew that my friend's parents did not argue as severely as mine. I remember a lot of things from my parents' unhealthy marriage and eventual divorce. They hurt me a lot, but they also changed me.

Ever since I could walk, I remember my parents arguing. I never knew what about, but that did not matter. I just knew that the fighting was bad and that it was not normal. My parents would exchange vicious words, often concluding with someone slamming doors, shedding tears, or both. Their arguing changed me. I eventually became more introverted: quieter and more imaginative. I heard too much noise at home, and I feared that if I spoke, perhaps I would also yell. I did not want to endanger my friendships at school.

As I grew less talkative, I became more imaginative. I liked to pretend that my home life was without yelling and discord. My fantasies continued to grow in complexity. I imagined places, people...