My prized possession to my parents were letters from teachers in kindergarten.

These letters  were about how I would beg them to let me take books home from the classroom. Ever since I could read, I read.

I read every free moment I had. I would beg my dad to take me to the library if he ever picked me up from school. I would usually run to the movies if I felt lazy, picking up Mary-Kate & Ashley VHS tapes that I would have on repeat for the week. Still, I wanted to read when I could and then I started writing. From fourth grade to sixth grade I spent my time writing page after page about anything and everything. I wrote essays better at the age of 10 than I do at the age of 20.

I carried Steno notebooks with me and used them to write these essays about books I had borrowed from the library; two I remember perfectly. The first, astronomy. Space was interesting to me but stars were fascinating. There was something insane to me about being able to read about and learn about how much people knew about this infinite amount of space and still be confused by it.

The second was a kids biography on Magic Johnson. For some reason I went into this phase of biographies. It became second nature to walk into the children’s section of the library, walk straight through the round tables and down the aisle second from the right. I took notes, read, re-read, drafted, edited, and finalized essays on the stars and Magic Johnson.

There is something concrete and satisfying to have something written down on paper. It feels real, it feels like it has a purpose.

It felt real, it felt like it had a purpose. So read, society. Keep reading.


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