The first thing I wrote was a story about my first lost tooth
It was stuck on the fridge with a cute magnet
I showed everyone who would listen
I was nine
The next thing I wrote was a short story about a dark fairy
In the form of a booklet, handmade by me
No one saw it
I was eleven
The thing after that which I wrote was a story that never got finished
In the form of a notebook meant for school but fell apart
I didn't care to show people
I was thirteen
The latest thing I am writing is about me
In the form of a blog, formed by some people unknown
People who I don't know will see it
I am nearly fourteen
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