I am a student, I love writing and I would love to make my writing a profession one day.
I am a fun person full of ideas and up for a challenge. I started writing when I was at primary, felt cool escaping the real world to a fantasy where all dreams come true, where anything is possible. I would love to publish a book someday.
Growing up seemed like an exciting journey ahead, all the dreams about to come true. Something just doesn't feel right. What's missing? What's behind the mystery of my existence?...