Monday, 8 March 2010

Simply,

I was raised in a loving home where my parents told me I could be anything I wanted to be – which, at the time, happened to be a ballerina, or a magician, or maybe a rockstar. I was gifted with enough intelligence to succeed in whatever area I chose. However, the areas I chose were Nintendo expertise, skills in comic book reading, and an amazing ability to draw stick people that looked like outlandish 3D objects in a Picasso painting.

Time passed and my Barbie world just wasn’t enough anymore- it was like a finished comic book, a completed video game. I was bored. So I tried something different; I tried to read books. Needless to say, my spoiled mind and imagination did not immediately take to them. Luckily, I had always been a dreamer.

I grew to love reading and through it, I learned my greatest love; a love of writing. The books I read inspired my imagination and my heart and made me discontented with a simple, easy life. I could no longer look at a tree without hearing a song come from inside it; I was now unable to pass by an old stone building without hearing its story and song in my ears. I paid attention to everything because everything deserved to be paid attention to. I related to nature, people, and dreams with an intensity that blew me away.
With every book I read my expectations and motivations heightened. I knew, as surely as I know now, that until I find a fantasy world of my own, I will keep fighting with everything in me to make my life the best it can be.
That, briefly, is my life story so far. :)

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