Remember that first time that you realized that you could put your thoughts on paper, but they didn't have to be your actual thoughts, but someone else's? You sat down with that old notebook and a number two pencil - because most of us actually used paper back then - and wrote about people who never existed, and you realized that it gave you a release from life that nothing else possibly could. I had my "writer's epiphany" when I was eleven. I was in fifth grade, and oh, boy, did my writing suck. I didn't know it then, and I didn't care once I did. By the time I hit middle school two years later and enrolled in writing classes, I had decided that writing would be a permanent part of my life, no matter what. 



In middle school, I took Honors English classes, Creative Writing classes, and showed my writing to anybody and their dog. Middle school kids are brutal, especially when some random, strange, poofy-haired girl shoves a chapter in your face, demanding that you "read it now!" That was when I realized in full force that my writing needed a LOT of work. I was emotionally derailed for a while, but a few years later, I realized that I was being absurd - there will always be critics and naysayers, because we are humans and we like different things. This holds true through every alternate universe and dimension.



Now, I am back with a passion, a cup of hot cocoa, spotify, and Nanowrimo. I am determined, and I will not give up.

 "The only thing missing from life is what you're failing to bring to it." - Brent Smith