Creativity is a beautiful thing. Stories, art, music, films; it’s incredible how humans find ways to express themselves and leave something behind. Art is created through meticulous and personal care. It’s made to evoke and express emotion, and in all technicality, it isn’t necessary—it plays almost no part in survival and mating. It’s so human, because it’s so genuine, and because no other known species have made art in the way we do. Moreover, the art and entertainment released into the world tie people together neatly: bonding with others through people’s creations has become a natural part of my daily life, whether it be by exchanging songs, talking about Anne with an E, or showing each other pretty characters.

In addition to enjoying others’ creations, I’ve written my own stories since late elementary school. After doing it for so long, it’s become something familiar and, for a lack of a better word, reliable. Oddly enough, writing feels almost like a part of my identity, merely because it’s something I enjoy and work on to improve. 

It started as ideas inspired by the stories I consumed at the time, notably Avatar: The Last Airbender and Spirit Animals. In fifth grade, I met a friend who also enjoyed writing, and we told novice stories on long car drives, promising to write them down, finish them, and eventually publish them (ironically, they’re long abandoned). I’m actually still in contact with her, and though our conversations are infrequent, they’re always enjoyable. I wrote more in middle school, though I’d say my writing stayed laughable for the majority of it. However, as embarrassing as the stories were, they contributed to friendships and inside jokes; and now, they’re something to look back on and laugh fondly at. 

As time progressed, writing became a way for me to express myself. Looking back at my writing, I’m able to see scenes that detail my own experiences, or thoughts that reflect my own. Over quarantine, I began to write short, vague stories of unnamed characters. They were never the same people, but in some way or another, they were a product of my thoughts. I’d write about the monotony of quarantine, or the way no one will ever be their perfect self, or how the greatest of things may seem small over time. I remember writing about these topics, then sitting back, feeling a little more satisfied; a little more organized. Granted, it would’ve been as effective to word-dump my thoughts into a notebook, but I think it’s nice to be able to express myself in an indirect and fanciful way. 

Creativity has also played a huge role in the friends I’ve made and grown with. There are friends I’ve met solely because of a book series, and I’m forever grateful to that author, even though my reading preferences have drifted from her writing style. I’ve had many entertaining conversations discussing shows, movies, books, and games. Several months ago, my church friends and I began playing Genshin Impact, and it’s become a familiar topic to return to and be excited about; our friendship likely would’ve developed more slowly otherwise. And of course, music is naturally another important part of creativity. One of my friends and I take turns playing songs, introducing the other to new artists and enjoying their music together. I’ve learned that it’s incredibly satisfying when she likes a song as much as I do.

So, in conclusion, thank you, creativity, for existing and making humanity as it is. A world without you would be bland, and I’d be very different from who I am now, with one less of a hobby. The friendships influenced by others’ creations have changed the way I act, talk, and think, and the entertainment I’ve consumed has taught me a lot. Creativity is an important part of society, and I’m immensely grateful for how it’s impacted me.