"Ever since I was little, I was lonely. With my father working minimal wage jobs in factories, slaving away the daylight hours, and my mother sewing dresses for her many clients, I was left to my own devices. I think that’s when I picked up a pen and started my way of combatting the emptiness. I started out doodling; the little spirals and hearts filled the back of junk mail. Then, when I learned to write, I would write little things. From my name to what happened during the day. It was my way of coping, coping with the world. Writing until the pen ran out of ink."

"But you are not alone anymore."