Hi all that have kindly taken the time (and care enough) to vew this page. I am not really a good writer, and I have a bad sense of what makes a plothole filled, so I apologise for my gaping plotholes, oozing out countless possibilities of how the story would go, so please be patient and try to imagine the thing that I am, even though that is impossible. me learner teached i the GOODEST grammer, so I hope I will not do all that bad in the world of writing.  Since age four, wirting has always been a passion (meaning that I like to write rather than I thought that wrting was a delicious tropical fruit, for more about that go and search up passion fruit and turn the taste up on your device, but be warned, it is a bit sour)  and passtime to me, whether it was writing shot stories, witing music, writing not-so-short stories (my teacher asked for 2000 words, I turned in a 20,000 word short story, so I don't think that he read all of it, but one can hope for the best) - note this was a great teacher not the one that teached me grammer to I-  I hope that you like my poorly written, misaranged chunks of text, and if you don't, I really have nothing that can help you with that, so I am sorry  Now for the credits.  They are: my computer, my eyes, my floor, my house, my index finger, my other index finger, my bad sense of humour, my robotic sheep that I don't have, the imaginary robotic sheep that I do have (but I just mde that up on the spot.  My map of the house (without it I would still be able to find my way around the house without missing a beat), my nothing, my something, my right leg, my lef leg, (without them, I would have to walk with my hands, and I wouldn't be able to type with my toes because I can TOTALLY do that (sarcasm) and I am rather attached to them both literally and figuratively)  I also give thanks to many other things including you - but only if you are a human.   Also, I think that oh look, I have run out of room to write more missaranged chunks of tex-