Once upon a time, I sat down to write a story—and discovered that I had forgotten how. My words, my constant friends from earliest childhood, had been neglected too long, and they had left me. I felt a cutting sense of loss: an amputation in my identity. The thought of never writing another story frightened me. I enrolled at De Anza College that same week. I am transferring as an English major because I believe in the power of words; I believe in the importance of stories.

By studying English, I will be surrounding myself with students who are as exhilarated as I am to play with the intricacies and subtleties of language. I am eager to learn from and about those who have devoted their lives to words, from Thomas Malory to Toni Morrison. There is little more thrilling than to catch the infectious enthusiasm of a brilliant teacher.

The structure of the English language fascinates me. I have experience editing for ESL professionals, and I often find it challenging to explain grammar rules that I know intuitively. I want to deepen my understanding of this complex language and use that understanding to benefit other people.

I want to explore what I might do, where I might go, and who I might become within the broad story of storytelling. I am determined to live and work with purpose. Stories make facts and data emotionally irresistible. It is not the statistic that there are an estimated 27 million slaves worldwide that has made me a conscientious consumer, but the story of an eight-year-old boy chained to a cocoa tree. For six months, I wrote a blog for the abolition nonprofit organization Looking For Starfish, researching ethical alternatives to slave-made goods such as chocolate, and I continue to contribute to the organization’s Facebook page. I want to exercise the power of words to tell the stories of those whose voices are stifled.

A cherished dream of mine is that I might do for children what authors did for me. When my childhood was too much for me, when bullies taunted me, when my father’s Asperger’s Syndrome wounded me, I had books. I sailed down the Mississippi with Huck and Jim; I led the French army with Joan of Arc; I crept through Mirkwood with Bilbo. I was more than a forlorn, vulnerable little girl. I was omnipotent. Freedom takes many forms, and I want to be a liberator.

Whereas I enjoy writing and reading for my own edification, I cannot overstate my appreciation for the experienced insight of college professors. I love the wonder and freedom of exploring on my own, but I am also eager to travel with expert guides who can point out sights I might not have noticed otherwise. I am excited to delve into more formidable literature, books that have aroused my curiosity but whose complexities I have not yet been able to grasp fully. I want to be taught.

As Margaret Atwood says, “a word after a word after a word is power.”