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Description
I remember that when I was a kid I loved to read all day and all night. I remember how I read books in the school breaks. I remember how much I wanted to be like the people in the books. I wanted to be strong, to have super-powers or even to travel to different planets. I think I just wanted to be a piece of paper in a book.
When you are in school and you have a hobby that is different in the eyes of the others you don't belong. You are the one out of the game. The one who is strange and will be always remembered as the Odd kid. My friends loved to play with dolls; I loved to play with constructors and other boy stuff. My friends were reading comic books; I was reading big books about distant places. They were watching cartoons, I watched crime series with my parents. They wanted to become a princesses, a nurse, doctor or the most common thing that every kid want to be, I wanted to travel around the world like Indiana Jones. Soon I become the one that never fit in the place or in the classroom.
A boy that doesn't like you comes to you and hits you even if you are a girl. It doesn't matter. You are odd. Weirdo. Nobody likes you here. They start to say bad thing about you just because your clothes are old and look strange. They don't care if your dad doesn't have a job and your mum is the only working person at home. Your dad is worried about his future and can't stand the situation even so he is the best dad in the world.
One day run from school and my classmates finally started to realize that I too have a heart. I too feel pain and can cry. So what? I don't care about you anymore, you spoiled bunch of idiots! I was sixth grade and I finally started to create my punishment to the real world. I took a notebook and started to write a story in which I made a hero who got rid of them all. And for the first time I was happy with myself. I had something better than pure strength – I had my imagination. I had my own power. Of course some people made fun of my new hobby. I said nothing. For the first time I knew that this was only for now. After them the life would be better.
I went to high school and I end up in class with who were more tolerant or simply hid their real selves really good. I started to fit in. I started to be one those people who are part of the crowd just because they had they patience and the ability to listen even when the others were talking total bulls**t. The others had the charm or the money, I was a good listener. My personal philosophy was "Listen and make notes for yourself". The people in the classroom know you are computer maniac, but you also love listen music in the IT class when you are just typing or do the things that the teacher wanted. You are quiet and always sit next to the door. You don't smoke, nobody in your family is a smoker, but you don't mind if you sit on the same table with smokers. You like to read and you write things but also you do know how to help others in need or just calmly even with angry person. You stand out of the crowd but also find your place in it.
I close my last notebook and sigh. My memories are now sealed in paper and ink. Every person in my stories is person from my life. The good, the bad, the ones that I never understood. And some are pieces of me. The good me, the bad me, the strange me, the me that never listen…
In writing I found my way in and out of this world. I found I way to reach those who I lost a long time ago. I will continue with this. I'm not a school student anymore. I'm me. I'm free from my memories. I'm the author of my new story.
I open a new page and write:
'I remember that when I was a kid I loved to read all day and all night…'

Description
I remember that when I was a kid I loved to read all day and all night. I remember how I read books in the school breaks. I remember how much I wanted to be like the people in the books. I wanted to be strong, to have super-powers or even to travel to different planets. I think I just wanted to be a piece of paper in a book.
When you are in school and you have a hobby that is different in the eyes of the others you don't belong. You are the one out of the game. The one who is strange and will be always remembered as the Odd kid. My friends loved to play with dolls; I loved to play with constructors and other boy stuff. My friends were reading comic books; I was reading big books about distant places. They were watching cartoons, I watched crime series with my parents. They wanted to become a princesses, a nurse, doctor or the most common thing that every kid want to be, I wanted to travel around the world like Indiana Jones. Soon I become the one that never fit in the place or in the classroom.
A boy that doesn't like you comes to you and hits you even if you are a girl. It doesn't matter. You are odd. Weirdo. Nobody likes you here. They start to say bad thing about you just because your clothes are old and look strange. They don't care if your dad doesn't have a job and your mum is the only working person at home. Your dad is worried about his future and can't stand the situation even so he is the best dad in the world.
One day run from school and my classmates finally started to realize that I too have a heart. I too feel pain and can cry. So what? I don't care about you anymore, you spoiled bunch of idiots! I was sixth grade and I finally started to create my punishment to the real world. I took a notebook and started to write a story in which I made a hero who got rid of them all. And for the first time I was happy with myself. I had something better than pure strength – I had my imagination. I had my own power. Of course some people made fun of my new hobby. I said nothing. For the first time I knew that this was only for now. After them the life would be better.
I went to high school and I end up in class with who were more tolerant or simply hid their real selves really good. I started to fit in. I started to be one those people who are part of the crowd just because they had they patience and the ability to listen even when the others were talking total bulls**t. The others had the charm or the money, I was a good listener. My personal philosophy was "Listen and make notes for yourself". The people in the classroom know you are computer maniac, but you also love listen music in the IT class when you are just typing or do the things that the teacher wanted. You are quiet and always sit next to the door. You don't smoke, nobody in your family is a smoker, but you don't mind if you sit on the same table with smokers. You like to read and you write things but also you do know how to help others in need or just calmly even with angry person. You stand out of the crowd but also find your place in it.
I close my last notebook and sigh. My memories are now sealed in paper and ink. Every person in my stories is person from my life. The good, the bad, the ones that I never understood. And some are pieces of me. The good me, the bad me, the strange me, the me that never listen…
In writing I found my way in and out of this world. I found I way to reach those who I lost a long time ago. I will continue with this. I'm not a school student anymore. I'm me. I'm free from my memories. I'm the author of my new story.
I open a new page and write:
'I remember that when I was a kid I loved to read all day and all night…'