Freedom of Choice

Growing up as a kid, I loved books. My mom would take my sister and I to the library frequently. What made books so appealing to me was that at the library there was a room full of them and I could pick whichever ones I wanted. This was my first experience with freedom, one of the only parts of my life I could control. When you’re 8 years old, even maybe 10 anywhere you go you’re choices are limited. You’re completely dependent on parents for money if you even get to buy what you want. It was a big deal for me because my mom usually made my decisions for me; my life was planned and I had an empty head. I also liked books as a kid because reading came pretty easy to me. I wasn’t someone who stumbled over words or needed to practice reading extra. Reading gave me confidence, and at the same time it was something I could challenge myself with. I liked to read book series, like the majic treehouse books it was a challenge and an accomplishment to finish each series, to read thicker heavier books. By middle school and high school reading wasn’t exactly a cool thing to do so I gradually stopped reading books, became more social and spent more of my free time with friends instead of sitting in a room by myself with a book. Writing was a different story though, I was always the last one to finish copying notes from the board, I hated writing as a kid because it was so structured. By the time high school came around most of the time writing assignments were bullshit. Teachers just gave long tedious assignments because the harder they made school the smarter it made you obviously. I hated writing pretty much all through high school. By senior year I stopped doing English assignments, because I hated them and I was going through a rough patch in my life. I began to look at life from a much more pessimistic viewpoint, stopped caring about a lot of thing like school and writing in general. After I was old enough to think for myself I was angry about