Personal Narrative-College Essay

I remember the first time I created art. I was seven years old and I was already in the midst of learning about myself. The pencil crayons felt like paint brushes as I let my inner artist run wild. I felt like Matisse himself even though I had no idea who that was at the time. I drew a rose and an off-coloured clownfish that looked more like Tiger. Although the things I drew had no significance, the idea of creating something captivated me ever since. I practiced baking to settle my need for creation and ended up falling in love with the hobby; baking is what fulfilled my need for creation and decoration. I still satisfy my need for art by occasionally visiting the Art Gallery of Ontario or drawing silly sketches the on scrap pieces of paper
I see the beauty inside of the unsightly with rose-coloured eyes. I become mesmerized by forests and lakes, sunsets and sunrises, and even the blue hue of the afternoon sky. My passion for beauty combined with my reckless behaviour causes me to get in trouble with authority figures. I sneak out of the house to watch the night sky and I trespass through certain areas to snap a picture of the pretty flower that caught my attention. I do not think about the repercussions of my actions and although most people would condemn me, I choose to see it as a
I am ever-changing; the things I loved two weeks ago are the things that bore me today. I go through an existential crisis almost everyday because I do not fully understand what the word “identity” means. I have learned to live in chaotic harmony with my constant thoughts of existence and have been handling them well. I am being pushed into adulthood unprepared and terrified with nothing but a thick shroud of confidence that protects my sensitive and fragile soul. My guard has manifested into an ostentatious persona that I refuse to take off. My arrogance coupled with my rowdy personality helps me deal with the awkwardness of high