Dragging myself out of the gymnasium and down the hall, I try and get to the side double-doors. But with no one here to help me, it’s difficult. I need to sit for a moment out on the steps leading to the back field and gather myself.
My legs become heavier as I get to the doors. The cyclone happening inside my head is growing thicker while my vision is so unclear I can barely make out any objects.
Stumbling down the first step, I barely recognize where I am.
“What’s happening?” I think I say.
There’s a cacophony of dense sounds; a combination of white noise, mumbling, and a beat which doesn’t make sense.
There’s something about the written word that is pure magic.
Possibly it’s the fact there are 26 letters in the English alphabet, and they can create something so beautiful or so empowering they’re capable to change our lives.
How important is it that we break suit and stretch our minds?
I like to think of myself as ‘unique’. My stories aren’t for everyone, and sometimes I may push what you believe to be ‘normal’.
Normal is subjective.
I prefer to be known as a person who’s never been ‘bound by custom’ but is ‘unique by choice’.
I hope you do read and enjoy my stories.