I can't understand why our English teacher reads my books sooo much. It's not that good anyway.

But coming from the beginning, I think I started writing first when I was about 13 and at first it was just poems. Cringe, without rhyme, written during somewhat of depression poems, to be exact. They were just an outlet to my emotions, really. I tried publishing it, but didn't succeed.

I wasn't that much disappointed, since I didn't expect anything. Hope for better, be ready for worse.

Time went, and I switched to fanfiction. Which gave me an idea.

You see, there was this one fic, where MC travelled through dimension. And yeah, my world was born.

Soon enough I got a bit of backstory and characters to start. But even if the idea was good, the writing was...yeah.

And it brings us back to the question: Why my English teacher liked my book so much? Wait, no. Why does he analyses it so much?

It's like in that joke: "Why does author choose colour blue? Because he was sad" teacher says. "It's my favourite colour" was thinking author. And that's just like our English is behaving: "Why do you think they have one power, but not the other?" I would answer 'Because it was a fucking draft I decided to keep', then he would answer "Because the author was showing that we all are not all powered, we have something we miss" which is bullshit, thank you very much.

And questions like that goes and goes. Man, fuck off, you don't know shit about this. You can always ask, y'know? Honestly, I feel bad for all authors that died before people learnt meaning of their arts and works.

Maybe he just trying to get on my nerves, which means I'm not anonymous anymore. Oh joy. I was hoping at least somewhere I would be safe to be myself.