Title: Manifesto

Author: Eáránë Serágon

Rating: G

A/N : For my creative writing class, we were assigned to write a manifesto about the reason in which we wrote. This is my first draft of the manifesto, but I think it came out all right. :-)

Always remember that you are an individual. Just like everyone else.

I used to believe this statement to be rude, as well as a large farsity. However, as I grew, in years and in mentality, I began to see that this statement was the basis of the entire way in which I lived my life, and the way in which I looked at mankind itself. Each situation in which I faced seemed to cause this phrase to appear in my mind, and soon, the words were tattooed onto my brain, permenent, yet only appearing when triggered, or the situation arose.

One thing I do not pride myself on is my utterly horrible memory. If a person walked up to me and told me their name, then excused themselves to go grab a donut at the nearby coffee stand, chances are when they arrived back at my side, their name would be lost to me. Every few months, I would forget my own personality and would have to think of an entirely new one, which didn't matter much to me, because I didn't remember the previous one enough to mourn its loss, anyhow. This trait caused me to lose quite a few friends, and gain quite a few sympathizers. However, I believe that this trait makes me quite an individual.

Individuality is something that ranges in importance, varying from person to person. Some take protecting their own individuality to an insane level, whereas others only enjoy what individuality they have, knowing how sacred it has become and taking it for the treasure it truely is. Others have no individuality, but follow those that do.

It's all a matter of personality, as well as a matter of dignity and leadership. It's a matter of how much you want to stand out, and how much you want to be noticed. It's how you want to be remembered, and how you will be remembered if you so choose. It's your individuality that is key.

All through my elementary school years, I had two best friends. We dressed just like everyone else, talked like everyone else, and liked the trends that everybody else just happened to be liking at the time. We didn't think it was strange, in fact we thought the exact opposite, believing we were the hottest of the hot when we blended in so much. We didn't think for ourselves very often, and when we did, it seemed eerie, almost as though we shouldn't be doing it.

Around the eighth grade, I met an amazing girl who changed my life forever. She took everything I knew and believed in and shook it with everything she had, kicking the crap out of it and showing me that things are not all they appear to be. She showed me that life is never simply a black and white photo, but a collage, collaberated with millions of different shades of grey. She taught me through our friendship never to believe in what other people tell you, and to always, always think for yourself.

She wasn't your average girl, not at all. Her fashion sense was abserd to our thirteen-year old minds, and she was, for lack of a better word, wierd. Rumored to have been a witch, she wasn't part of the popular crowd, the crowd that, until meeting her, I myself would have died to be a part of. She was her own person, a trait she taught to me, and passed on to me, in her strange, but amazing, ways. Meeting her took my writing to a whole new level, and taught me that in order to be happy, you don't ever have to be just like anybody else. She showed me that in most cases, it's better not to be.

Somehow, writing just seemed so much more fun and cleansing after meeting her. The words flowed more easily, my feelings came more naturally, and I didn't feel like such a stranger in my own mind. She changed my writing for the better.

Writing has always allowed me to be myself, and to show how I truely am, as well as express my own opinions towards anything that could possible warrent one. Being a genuinely serious person, writing gives me a chance to let my sense of humor out of its small box inside of me, sometimes taking over my stories and leaving me with a discusting horrid story of the humor genre. However, being serious isn't as easy as it looks, and every person needs release from their own lifestyle once in a while.

Just recently my reason for writing has increased, and with those reasons came my desire to improve my writing. I began Marine Pre-Training at the start of the school year, and got a large dose of just what I was getting into. How, many of you may be asking, did I get this large dose of reality?

In the form of a thirty-five year old Gunnery Sergent spitting in my face.

Now, mind you, it was clearly accidental, but you can bet that the only words running through my mind as I stood at attention was 'Jeez, man, say it, don't spray it'.

In the Marine Corps pre-training, as well as the any Military Basic Training, the recruits do not have names. The recruits do not have genders. The recruits do not have personalities. The recruits do not have opinions. Aside from the occasional very brave recruit cracking a joke at the Instructor, the recruits are each their own pile of clay, to mold and to shape in whatever way the Marine Corps wishes to do so.

Each recruit, when speaking, does not refer to themselves or any other person, for that matter, by name or by gender. There is no "I", and there is no "me". When asked the question, "Are you ready to do LAPS, recruit!?", the recruit clearly states, "YES, sir, this recruit is ready to do laps, sir. This recruit LOVES laps!"

Now, to me, this was a large change. To go from being free, and an almost individual, to suddenly being so categorized and faceless that my mother couldn't tell which recruit I was in line? It was unbelievable. There was absolutely no way you were going to catch ME stepping forward out of line and stating, "Sir, this recruit would like to state an opinion on the matter, sir!"

I'd probably still be doing pushups if I did.

Writing helps me survive these sessions. It helps remind me that yes, I am different, and no, I'm not just a mindless zombie. I'm a person, and an individual, at that. I have a name, and it's not 'recruit', and I have a personality that doesn't revolve around what my Drill Instructor is telling me. It reminds me that I'm special, in my own unique way, and that no matter how many times Gunnery Sergent Davis spits in my face, I will always be able to go home, limbs barely usable from muscle stress and overuse, and be able to do something I love.

That love is writing.

I write for my family. I write for my friends. I write for my country, and I write for my school. I write for the world, and I write for my teachers. But most of all, I write for myself. And that's all I need to write for.

I am an individual, and I'm not just like everybody else.