As I got older, I continued writing stories. It wasn't hard writing fantasy and fiction, and very quickly I saw myself differently. I wanted to tailor colors and words, filled with the happy things that I didn't have as a child. My appetite for writing couldn't be stopped.

My stories were aimed at children and young audiences. My first story was titled "Puppy goes to the Parade". I worked and studied so hard to write it. I would starve overnight just to keep writing. Every page was carefully made with love, like a parent should love their child.

The world continued to push back, however. Nobody wanted a story without conflict, and soon I became very afraid of supporting myself. After all, who would want to read such insipid stories? I was told to give up, settle, among other dehumanizing things. My hunger for a story to connect with anyone grew further...

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