Growth

In the beginning there was me, my pencil, wide ruled paper, and moments of secret writing. Being a writer is not something that easily happens for most, and I am no exception. Throughout the years I have written small things, barely considered stories. Most of them are rants about life; some are reflections on the past. There are assignments from writing teachers and English class, letters to lost friends and notes to secret loves. Without this sight, I would have simply discarded them. But thanks to an amazing friend who convinced me to branch out in my writing, I saved these things I deemed unworthy of editing and have attempted changing them to legible and somewhat decent works and posted them here where the public can judge them however harshly. So without further ado, please delve into the mind of your local book worm, critic, romantic, fantasizer, and maniac.