Once Upon a Time

Books, cheap toys, and imagination. Known for being independent since kindergarten (my teacher awarded me Most Independent at the end of the school year), those three things helped me survive my childhood.

I had friends, hung out and played (and also fought) with them. But my adventures on a beautiful drawing of a mystical island on a book remained more memorable to me than the plenty of times I played hide and seek at night with my friends.

Yes, I was that kid. I was that teenager. However, growing up forces you to “let go” of some things in order to “grow”.

The Plot Thickens

Instead of writing my worlds to life, I wrote computer codes. It appeared that the war between “letting go” and “holding on” had concluded.

After health issues (and a cancer scare) and existential depression, I learned that I never really let go.

Writing filled that hollow part of my life which I had grown accustomed to ignoring. It helped with the pain, gave me light, and showed me life. I thought I let go of my dream but I was wrong. All these years, I held on to my dream, tucked it under for safekeeping, and waited for the time of awakening.

I am awake.

Books

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