I went to a private school in Texas. After dropping out of there, I went to a pretty well off high school. I didn't do well there either. I graduated and went to a mediocre college. I failed out. I spent a few years trying to “find myself” and only ended up focusing on what other people were doing as opposed to what I should be doing.
I have loved literature since before I can remember. I used to spend my lunch breaks, hiding in the library. The happiest moments I have was discovering a new book in the library and trying to read it before my next class. If I didn't then I guess I had to take the book home. What else was I supposed to do? The things was, I didn't like being forced to read. Something about a school assigned book getting in the way of what really mattered made me irate.
So now I am 27, broke, unemployed, and unhappy, trying to find my way back to what I love. And also, trying to put more love and acceptance into myself, instead of putting it into someone else.
So, here's to writing. Here's to pouring out soul and heart, hoping to help someone else who needs to find their passion.
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