It was sometime during earlier childhood, that I first discovered my strange connection to the enchantment of words. My mother still likes to tell people of a time she asked what I wanted to eat for breakfast, to which I replied, “books.” I once even made a Valentine’s Day card for Ponyboy from The Outsiders and proclaimed to all my fifth grade friends that I was in love with him. I wanted a friend like Ponyboy, one who would read Gone With the Wind to me and recite Robert Frost poems like he does for Johnny. I could always count on my fictional friends to take me on literary adventures, to understand me no questions asked. I trusted them.
Now, years later, I’m still trying to figure out where this fascination with words stems from and I think I have it almost figured out. Almost.
Words make us feel something…
View original post 642 more words