Since I was a kid, I've loved words and imagination. I can remember taking out the booklets of my Super Nintendo games and reading them for the little snippets of stories that they put in there. I wanted to be friends with Megaman and all my favorite Pokemon. I always gravitated to the games and children's books that made me feel like I was a small fish in a huge pond, that there were amazing things outside of what I could see, and that all I needed to do to touch them was to open my mind. As I started to grow older, my love didn't fade. I read everything that I could get my hands on. I began to love science fiction and high fantasy and even horror books. Then junior high school happened. I knew that I wanted to write—I wanted to take part in creating those worlds that I ran to when I was scared or lonely or craving adventures beyond my playground. But when it came time to learn how, I was diagnosed with dysgraphia. I tried desperately to learn. My peers were all better than me. They could fill those blue books with the words I loved even though they found it boring. But I couldn't. It physically hurt, and no matter how much I practiced, my handwriting never got any better. That will never change. It still takes me over a minute to tie my shoes in the morning.

For years, I didn't have many options. I continued to read. I continued to think and imagine. But whenever I put pen to paper, my muscles seized and I had to stop. It affected my grades and my self-esteem. The schools all thought that it was something that I could change, that I just wasn't trying hard enough, and by twelve I was transferred into special classes meant to help me overcome it. It only helped me feel more isolated. I began battling deep depression and anxiety that stayed with me through high school. But then an amazing yet ordinary thing happened: my family bought me a computer. With a keyboard, I suddenly had a way to express myself without pain or worrying about legibility. It took a long time to learn to type, but once I did, I had an avenue that allowed me to pursue my dream of writing. My love for words had never been extinguished; the fire had simply been buried, waiting for that breath of air to reignite it.

Years later, writing has remained my dream. Dailey problems and activities make living hard sometimes and has gotten in the way of me pursuing it as a career. The world revolves around money, especially in my area, and I never had that moment where I could put my time on the line and pursue my dream. But I can't let that continue. I will fight for it. I may not ever be able to tie a knot or have a signature that looks the same twice, but I can make my younger self proud and get past a limitation he thought he had to live with for the rest of his life.

The people who have helped, all of you reading this, everyone who has read my stories and characters, everyone who's offered a critique, and all of the amazing people who have chosen to support me are part of that fuel that has reignited my fire. I owe you everything. And I will continue to. I won't let my childhood dreams remain childhood tears.

Let me know if you like my stories! I'm a huge fan of comments and critiques, so keep them coming!

Thank you for reading!