Brief Autobiography

Autobiography

When I was little, reading, writing, and basically learning in general was the bane of my existence. Now, I'm an honors student who spends the vast majority her free time reading or writing. Oh, the irony.

I remember that my teachers would give the whole class homework every night to read for five or ten minutes, and I wouldn't tell my parents because I hated reading. Really, I hated (and still strongly dislike) anything I was obligated to do. I couldn't spell, I was a painfully slow reader, and I hadn't even thought of writing. I wouldn't even attempt to read menus. I had my mom read it, or I looked at the pictures.

I remember how my mom would go on and on about how confused she was. Both of my brothers were great learners right off the bat, and they thought I was dyslexic. They even had me tested to see if I was in fact dyslexic.

I remember having to get extra help (I forget what they called it) and feeling like a total idiot. A sixty on a spelling test was fridge worthy for me. I wasn't proud of it. We'd get the spelling tests back, and everyone would talk about the grades they got and examine each others' papers. Mine went directly into the desk.

I remember third grade fondly. Ms. Knapp was definitely one of my favorite teachers. I remember how one day she was talking about voice. She said she already saw distinct voices forming in our writing. She said that if she was reading something she could tell Rachael's and mine from the rest of the class's writing.

Rachael and I were very similar. We later became best friends and noticed all of said similarities. We had the same insecurities. We were both quite loud and obnoxious, but we embraced it. We also both hated our poofy, thick ass hair, but that's beside the point. The main difference was that she was much more social and made friends easier (back stabbing bitch).

Anyway, back to the story. Ms. Knapp made me want to be a writer. It was in that way that kids want to be the first hair stylist veterinarian president in space, but I still wanted to be a writer. I think I did well in writing that year. I definitely didn't do well in spelling, but writing was good enough for me.

I let my grades slip again through fourth and fifth grade. I remember in fifth grade, the teacher embarrassed me, made me cry, then yelled at me for crying, and told me to go in the hall. I don't remember what it was for, so that's beside the point. In the summer between fifth and sixth grade, I went on vacation with my family. I don't remember where or anything else about the trip, but I remember the flight.

My mom was crying over some book, and I was fascinated. I didn't know books could make you feel something so strong, but they could, can, and will.

I wanted to read that book and see what all the fuss was about. The first novel I ever read and finished just for the fun of it was Accident by Danielle Steel recommended to me by my mother (spoiler alert: there's sex in it. Not a lot of sex, but still sex).

I remember one time that year. The teacher was having us come up and talk to her individually. She'd show us the graph of our reading level. Mine was pretty bad for most of my elementary school experience until it shot up to above average in sixth grade. I felt like a frickin' genius.

I wanted to read something else, but alas, I didn't have any motivation or material to read.

One time way later that year, I was in the mall with my mom and my friend, Delaney. She saw a poster for Catching Fire and started fangirling over it. I thought she was insane. I genuinely thought that she needed medicine to keep her mentally stable (which she probably did/does considering she's a fangirl). I then saw The Hunger Games and Catching Fire.

I then read both and loved them. I read Mocking Jay and started crying. That was my first experience crying over a book. I remember being in public with my mom, as I was finishing it. I put it down and asked her what the hell I was going to do now that I was done.

She suggested some book she heard they were making a movie out of. Apparently it's just like The Hunger Games, she told me. So, I bought the Divergent series (probably one my favorite book series along with The Hunger Games series) and read it. Boy, was I mentally unstable.

Divergent lead to The Fault In Our Stars which lead to a butt load of other books. Before I knew it I was a fangirl. I was addicted and obsessed, but I found company in the characters. I found refugee from my social awkwardness in the alternate universes. I loved it.

I guess, one day, I didn't have anything to read, so I googled something from one of my fandoms. Somehow, by doing that I stumbled upon Pinterest. I found a whole community who were as socially awkward and unstable as I was. I loved it.

I remember starting a Divergent fanfic that I never finished because outside of school I have the attention span of a goldfish with ADHD. I showed the first part to my one of my friends (halbeeee, Dainish Poop, if you read this, this was you), and she told me she loved it. That inspired me to come up with more. Alas, I never wrote it because damn you Pinterest! *shakes fist in the air*

Anyway, through Pinterest, I came across a link to Wattpad. It came up with a bunch of suggestions for me to read, and I picked random ones. I picked Frat Boys (it's in my reading list. You should check it out), and fell in love with Harry Styles as a character. That quickly gave way to falling in love with him as a person because damn you Pinterest! *shakes fist in the air*

Through my Harry Styles obsession on Pinterest, I found something called "Larry Stylinson". With the vast amount of free time I had I figured out what it was. I figured out that they love each other (at first I didn't know that Louis had a girl friend. I found out from a friend who shipped Elounor). I went to Wattpad to read all about it.

I started obsessing to a friend, and I think I told her I was thinking about posting something I wrote. She asked what my account was and told me she'd read everything I posted (I won't hold it against you if you don't, Dainish Poop, but just know that that was you). That gave me the courage to start posting.

That's what lead up to the obsessed reader/writer you have now. That's what lead up to me being an honors student who wants to be a psychologist (oh, the irony) and an author when I grow up. I'd like to thank my mom, Delaney, Ms. Knapp (who might have dropped off the face of the Earth), my Dainish Poop, and anyone who bothers to read what I wrote or listen to what I have to say (okay, that was way to deep for 4 in the morning, so...uh...penis!).