Growing up I had very few friends, so reading was an escape from reality. In the dark depths of novels, I would forget being called ugly or a troll. Instead, I would empathize with the characters and have a ravenous hunger for more. Writing was dull and monotonous and I always had a hard time conveying what I wanted to say on paper. I envied those whose words flowed …show more content…
Upon entering second grade, I was at a new school and lacked friends; this circumstance made me want to curl into a ball and cry. Since I was starting fresh at a public school the administration conducted some assessments to predict my reading, writing, and other various skill levels. The assessments concluded that I possessed an abnormally high reading level, this was a big deal to my small second grade mind. You see, in our library there was a red line, if you were in kindergarten through third grade you could not pass the prestigious line without permission. The “big kid books” as the second graders called them or “novels” to adults were held behind that notorious red line. After the administration concluded my reading level was approximately at a fifth to sixth grade level, I was granted the illustrious honor to cross the gleaming red line. You could see the look of envy from peers as I took my first step over that line. Crossing the red line threshold sparked my newfound fondness of