What were you made to do?

I came across this qoute earlier today; “It’s not about what you are able to do, but what you were made to do”. I immediately saved it to my collection of fave qoutes.


I wrote my first book when I was twelve years old. It was in Afrikaans, my mother tongue, and featured four best-friend protagonists who ‘coincidently’ resembled those of me and my three best friends. And yes, I did occasionally suffer from a lack of imagination but my creativity made up for it for the most part. I continued to write with a notepad (the paper kind) and pencil throughout my teens and later developed a deep love for poetry writing.

But it wasn’t until I was sixteen when I realised that writing in English just sounded so much better than Afrikaans. And I didn’t even need a wide vocabulary (score!). Or at least that’s what I thought. I  became infatuated with trying to perfect my English to master my poetic rhyme and prose. I bought English magazines as very few books were available at our local library. I submitted my work into writing competitions (and won a few too!) and I devoured every piece of English literature I could lay my hungry eyes on.

One day, while hanging out with my friends in my room I excitedly wanted to share the latest addition to my poetry collection with them. They were usually the very first victims who were subjected to my rhyming mumbles. Halfway through my recital my one friend exclaimed; “Oh Meriza, would you stop reciting other people’s work and pass it off as your own?”

I doubt I’ve experienced a prouder moment. My heart skipped a beat and I asked her whether she really thought it was someone else’s poem? She looked up at me and said; “Isn’t it?” Did she honestly think my poem was good enough to have been published by a renowned poet? Wow! I was beside myself with joy.

Every time I write a good piece of literature or poetry I get all excited and my heart still skips a beat, like it did when I was a twelve-year old girl. Steve Jobs said that we should continue to search for the one thing that excites us. “As with all matters of the heart, you’ll know when you’ve found it.”  My heart says I was made to write. What were you made to do?

2 thoughts on “What were you made to do?

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