Writing

Once upon a time, a kid was bored out of his mind as he had nothing to do in his mother's office except spinning on the chair which earned him glares from his mother.

He had just finished the Spongebob Squarepants movie's novel and then a thought came into his mind. He could write his own Spongebob Squarepants' movie! Evidently, he didn't know about things such as copyright. Yeah, those were the good times.

That day was the first time he remembered that he like writing and also spinning while sitting on a chair. He wrote a page long of the story and printed it out to present it to his mom with a proud smile. He created the magnificent adventure that Spongebob and Patrick was going on and it felt like he was with them, tagging along. His mom smiled and the rest was history.

Years later, he found himself sitting on a chair nearby a hospital bed, staring at this grandpa lying on the bed. It was a bit hot and humid and truthfully he preferred to stay at home but he knew that he had to be here, not only because his parents told him to. He knew he was going to stay there for quite a long time before his aunt or uncle came to take the next shift. Holding only a pencil and a pad of foolscap, he was set. That was all he needed and the rest depended on his imagination. He composed a story that was since long forgotten but the act wasn't.

It was around that time he figured that he liked writing. He wasn't talented nor did he fully grasp the grammar skill needed for it but he felt good so he kept on.

During his teenage years, he found out that penning his frustration and angst of his daily life actually helped so he did it. Words wouldn't judge him like the world did, he was the puppet master and the words were his puppet for the show, a show of his true feelings and no one could take that away.

Writing was for him and is still is until now.