i used to be an open book. Everybody saw my horrible handwriting. My story was no secret, and it was no secret where i was going. I was an energetic kid, i told myself everyday how awesome i was, and i got happier and happier by the minute.

*It’s funny how i don’t remember these days. My childhood is a mere mystery, waiting to be solved. i don’t remember anything before i closed the book. i’m no longer open for reading…