[A youth manuscript from 2014]
This is the second story I wrote in an old notebook when I was fifteen.
It’s immature and clumsy, even a little melodramatic, but it holds every bit of the passion I felt that winter.
I’ve chosen to leave it here.
Nothing more than a keepsake for the person I used to be.
If you happen to open it, perhaps it was fate. I hope your days are happy, your luck is good, and your life is peaceful and joyful. And there’s no need to worry about me:
My life is full of sunshine and love. The stories I wrote were just the innocent imaginings of my younger self.
Dedicated to that awkward yet sincere dream of creating.
