One Minute Author

One night I had this wonderful idea to write a book. So I began to write and as I was writing I felt like a real author. I wanted people to have a look into my life. The next morning my dream was dead. I was able to write a paragraph until I fell asleep in front of my laptop. I'm too lazy to actually write a book, that takes a lot of time. I have to balance more important things, and I realized I can't write a book if I've only been living for seventeen years. As far as I'm concerned I don't even have a life yet. So I decided to kill my dreams of being a author.

Jade Whiteside: My Story

The older I get the more I try to wonder what is the purpose of life. When your younger you don't have much to worry about. It's all about living out the best childhood you can, or the best childhood your allowed to have. I would be a lair if I was to sit here and say I never had a childhood. To me there are many definitions to the word childhood. One of the most important definitions of childhood to me would have to be memories. I love memories, I live to create memories and I have so many memories. When I really think of it, memories is the only thing that really puts a real smile on my face. The disadvantage is that memories are not only created through happy moments. Like all the happy memories I have, there are the bad memories to match. I think it's the bad memories that make me question what is the purpose of life. The older you get the happy memories begin to decline to the point they no longer exsist. There is just bad memory after bad memory building up. I begin to wonder is there ever enough? Or does life continue to get that bad that it never stops and it won't stop until the day that you die. The whole concept of life confuses me, it worries me, it leaves me curious.