I guess it started when I was the quiet kid in the corner who always had a book on them, and my backpacks were ridiculously heavy because of it. I didn’t find friends that easily. Add some not-so-good-natured bullying to that, and school wasn’t that easy.
So, I spent a lot of time reading. No, not just a lot. Nearly all of it. In-between classes, other kids would fall into easy patterns of chatter, and I’d just turn a page. When I got lonely, books were there.
My favorite place at recess was the library. I distinctly remember going to the giant thesaurus open at one of the desks and having to stand on tiptoe to flip through it.
I loved the stories about the underdogs, the bullied kids who save the world. The ones about the bookworms were some of my personal favorites.
I tell stories because I want to bring a smile to someone’s face. I want to help somebody who doesn’t know they can save the world too.
That’s why I’m in love with stories. They change lives. They preserve cultures, traditions, family–blood or not. They you how one can love freely, no matter who the other person is. Show how one’s identity shapes the way they experience the world, and how, at the end of the day, we’re all just trying to get through life…
Together.