Open Letter of Irony: Grandmother, I have failed your dream.
I’m sorry. I’m so terribly sorry. I have let you down. You have provided me with nothing but great advice my entire life. Everything from classes I should be taking to the boys I should and shouldn’t date, you have never fail to give me your honest counsel about any situation taking place. The most life-changing encouragement you have given me resided in my career path. You advised me to pursue a career as a nurse, a CEO, or even a pharmaceutical employee, much like my cousin, so I can be rich and never have to worry about money. What lucrative choices you’ve suggested, yet, I find myself straying from the path you’ve laid out, and for that I’m forever sorry. I regret that I cannot bring myself to follow your dream.
If there is one individual responsible for my certain descent into folly, blame would have to lie with Mr. Acumen, my high school English teacher. He’s the one who pushed me to indulge in Shakespeare, who forced my hand at analyzing Hamlet, who imposed the Odyssey so forcefully that I actually found I liked it. I despised him for his actions. I despised him so much that I finally decided I had to become an English major. Without his coercing tactics, I would otherwise be following your dreams and taking people’s blood pressure or attending board meetings or memorizing medications.
After being thoroughly captivated by the world of classical literature, I found myself reading more than I’ve ever read in my whole existence. Reading anything from the classics, to modern best-sellers, to romance, to science-fiction, to adventure novels, to new releases. Reading took over my life. My math homework became a nuisance, science became a bore, and the only thing I enjoyed to do was read.
Reading became my life. Not just my life, but my passion. A passion that expanded into the realm of writing. The sway of the literature made me wonder if I could create a magical, alternate world such as these best-selling authors did. I had my own ideas of books I wanted to see on the shelves, yet I could never find one that completely satisfied. So instead of waiting for my perfect book to be written by, I decided to morph my own visions into my own tangible words.
I can feel your look of disappointment you’re casting while reading this letter. I’m sorry grandmother. I have failed you. I’ve failed by not investing in a career that was suitable to you. I followed my dream and ignored your teachings and I am sorry. Maybe my little sister will head your advice, but I am hopelessly bound to literature. A million different worlds reside inside me and it’s my duty to introduce them to this one.
Your Determined Granddaughter