I still remember the day I wrote my very first story.
It wasn’t long or complicated — just a simple tale about a boy who dreamed of flying. I wrote it in an old notebook with a cheap pen, sitting under a tree, letting my imagination take me places I had never been.
At the time, I didn’t think much of it.
It was just a story, right?
But something changed in me that day.
As I wrote, I felt free. I wasn’t just a quiet person anymore — I was a creator. My thoughts had a place to live. My feelings had a voice. That small story gave me confidence and opened a door I didn’t even know existed.
Since then, writing has become a way for me to understand the world, and to understand myself. That first story may never be published, or read by many, but to me, it will always be the most important one.
