Lit. Out Loud: Dyslexia

     I walked through the two doors and down the stairs that lead to the cafeteria. I stared at all the lights, shining around the room. The room was lit by Christmas lights and lava lambs that members of club donated for tonight. I looked around and noticed other students in the club and those that attended the school. I saw Mr. Gazzer, who I knew very little. He was one of the advisers for the club along with Mr. M, who was my English teacher and role model and just like years before, did not notice I was at the event.
     The lights went dim and I found a seat to sit at. None of my real friends were there, but I saw a few people I knew and waved to them with a smile on my face. I was there to listen to the pieces that people wrote. Some people wrote poems, other wrote short stories, and a few others played music. It was a wonderful performance, however, my heart started to ache for although I loved to write, there was one thing missing. Spelling and grammar, and my reading were below average. I knew that the people standing up there reading will get papers publish and maybe even a book, while my talent laid hidden to the world.
     Having dyslexia was never easy and I knew my dream of becoming a great writer was slim. I cannot remember the first short story I wrote, but I do remember that before going to bed, I would write. I would write about all my imaginary friends and how they went on magical adventures with me. How we saved the world, a world that existed in my imagination. Where laws and physics never set foot, but the good guys always won and bad guys always lose. I wrote down these stories when I was only about ten-years-old in elementary school, but when I looked back at these stories, I discovered my spelling mistakes and grammar. I could not spell “what”, “how”, “when”, “mine”, “the,” “next”, “this”, and much more. My letters were everyway on the page, never staying on the line. These were my first stories and I continued to write before bed until I finished high school.
     In middle school, and even in high school, very few had noticed my gift. Although my spelling and grammar have improved, many still overlook my creativity and only saw the errors.
     Besides my spelling and grammar, my reading is slow and I often mistake words for something else. I am embarrassed to read out loud and I am afraid of screwing up, like I used to do when I was younger. That is why I look up to these other students and I wish I could tell them how lucky they were. They have perfect grammar, spelling, and can read without a single flaw. They are in the spotlight, while I am in the dark. Their talents will be noticed and people will clap for them, while I am sitting down with the audience without anyone noticing my talents. Because the ones standing up and reading have a talent and gift, something that I have as well, but I will never be able to share it. Because I have dyslexia and it will be the cross that I carry for the rest of my life.