When I was younger, I would eat up books faster than I got them. I’d frequently been caught reading books in the zaniest of places. I remember wanting to try writing, although I could never fully convey the words in my mind onto paper. Every once in a blue moon when I was able to; only I could understand what I wrote. It had fascinated me, and honestly frustrated me, that people could write these whimsical and arcane books that I’d held onto like a mother to her child.
When I’d entered middle school it had been an unusual experience at first. I remember having spent all my cherished time in the library. I’d explore the worlds’ I hadn’t yet experienced and read anything I could, as fast as possible with the undying will of a greedy lion. I’d
When I’d entered middle school it had been an unusual experience at first. I remember having spent all my cherished time in the library. I’d explore the worlds’ I hadn’t yet experienced and read anything I could, as fast as possible with the undying will of a greedy lion. I’d