I go by EJay. I'm sixteen. I build mental rockets and illusory stars. I hate drugs but am always ecstatic. I live on a rice field. I breathe music. I still believe in tooth fairies. I sleep with my hands tucked beneath my head. I eat chips with rice. 



Mostly, I dislike social interactions. I have introversion spelled all over my face. I shy away from the crowd and take my pen and paper and scribble the psychological folly I most of the time adhere to. 



I have a horrible mind. I basically write what pops outta my head. It's a neuron-to-paper thing. And one does not simply master such skill. Unless of course we share the same fate. I myself haven't even slayed this fish yet.



I love God. He's written my life and the hands I write with are part of his colossal art. God gives me fuel to carry on and forge ahead in putting to paper what my fanatical thinking demands me to.



Writing. It's really blurry and ambiguous at first. 



UGH. Sorry for the crappy, forced-patched up work. I'm just sleepy.