MyStreet Boys Preferences and Imagines

Goodbye, And Thank You For The Story

Our lives being painted as books and stories is a pretty good way to describe all of our experiences. This age you're at, this moment in time, this event? It's all one significant part of your story.

Your story.

Isn't that an amazing thing to think of? Your life, every action, and decision you make is what makes up your story. Sometimes, your actions and decisions don't even contribute all that much to your story, and that's okay because they could very possibly be the turning event in someone else's.

This is my story:

I've always loved reading. Ever since I could remember, books gave me an escape from the real world. Someone close to me encouraged me to excel in my reading lessons, so I did. I just never knew before how enamored I would be with something so simple as reading. I adored the way I could get lost in a story so easily and I craved the nostalgic feeling after finishing a book or series.

It was like my drug.

Suddenly, something ripped that someone from me.

I read a little less unless I had to.

Suddenly, thoughts swirled through my mind. Thoughts I didn't like.

A little less now.

Suddenly, people. People everywhere. Too many.

Less once more.

And so the spiral continued.

For years that spiral drew me closer to an endless abyss, and at one point I almost completely submerged myself in that darkness.

But I didn't.

Something threw me a lifeline and reeled me in a little bit.

But I could still see the edge of the abyss.

I found this app. This stupid, small yet large app called YouTube.

I then found this game called Minecraft. And then FNAF. And then more, and more games paired with hilarious commentators to give them more life and meaning.

When the content they provided wasn't enough, I went searching for more.

And suddenly, I found what I was looking for and more.

Slowly, I couldn't see the edge anymore.

The endless possibilities and stories made sure the darkness couldn't taunt me anymore.

Wattpad pulled me away from my bad thoughts, even before I started writing.

First, I regained my love for reading again. It took some time, but eventually, I just couldn't stop myself anymore.

It was like rediscovering an old childhood toy you thought you had lost years ago. Like finally taking a breath you didn't know you needed. Like reuniting with an old beloved friend. It was like coming home.

Then, I made a couple of friends. I don't know if I can still call them friends now, but at the time I could almost call them my family.

They made me feel comfortable and wanted. They introduced me to amazing communities. They exposed me to the joys writing your own worlds can bring.

It's really them I have to thank for what came next.

I wrote.

Plain and simple. I published a one-shot book and using the few active followers I had, I took requests and wrote for the characters they adored.