This is the part where I ramble about how great I am, my awesome non-autistic authoring skills, my volumes and volumes of novels I do so dream to publish. Oh, also my gender, age, and the fact that I graduated high school and am pursuing college courses.

Sadly, I'm just another lost soul and a freshman in this crazy little thing called, "the real world."

I like to read, and I like to write. I will not claim that I am a good writer or that my skills are superior enough to work their way into published works. I can rhyme. Maybe I'm a one trick pony, seeing that I only have one story slowly completing itself on here.

I simply see writing as an interesting concept. Who can lie the most while still keeping your attention enough 20 pages down the line. Stories they call them, not lies. Sometimes ideas hit me like a brick. Other times poke my eye out like a feather.

I'm more of an artist. But when the brain starts ticking an idea out at 2 am, I'll boot up the computer and get the fingers circulating.

I really can't see the errors of my own ways. My arrogance blocks the obvious faults in my writing. I need other's eyes to take a peek, ie reviews.