Every great work of literature includes a prologue in which a person writes a beautiful and inspirational praise for the author of said work. The person expresses their admiration and provides a quick introduction that could help you understand the purpose behind the author’s writings. In my work of literature, if you want to call it that, we lack the means to provide such a person to introduce me. So, I guess you are stuck with me, myself, and I. Prepare yourself for the humble brag, but mostly the realness of why I’m even attempting to write this self-indulgent piece of work.
High school was a monotonous purgatory. Continue reading