I was nine when I got bit by the writer's bug.

It started out as a simple limerick. Then it went to a short story on the back of a coloring page.

I was twelve when I stapled pieces of construction paper together, and hand wrote a short series.

My sophomore year of high school I started to write a story based off a conversation with a friend.

People told me that I am a wizard with words.

They also told me that writing would be easy and fun to do.

I thought it would be a walk in the park. Boy, I was wrong.

When I started writing I wasn't ready for what was ahead.

I wasn't prepared for the faceless bullies that hide behind an anonymous icon.

No one told me... no one told me about a writer's pain.

No one mentioned the sleepless nights.

Or the fact my caffeine intake would triple.

I wasn't prepared for the hand cramping or the urge to hit my head against a brick wall.

I never expected writing to be so hard.

I wish someone would've warned me before I dove head first into the world of writing.

I am a writer, but some days it feels like I don't know what I'm writing about.