And by the time I got to middle school, I wasn't as excited about literacy as I once was. I lost the drive I once had for writing and felt like my abilities were wasted. My once vast vocabulary was vanishing, and my daily writing time didn't exist. It wasn't until my senior year of high school that I began to appreciate writing again. My assignment was to write about something that changes you or has had meaning in your life. By then my grandmother had died and school was no longer my favorite place, so I tried to tell a fake story about how school changed me, my English teacher, Mrs. Heartt, already knew there was no it was no feeling from and made me do it again. So I looked for an old paper to pass off as a story and found the story I had written for my acceptance letter about my grandmother. I was planning on dropping out of high school right before she passed and I thought it was a logical thing to do since she did it and was successful anyway and I didn't really have an outlet and stuff, like I do with writing. My story about how his passing made me rethink some of the decisions I made, changed me in the same way that rereading the story made me rethink how I walked away from my life.