Sitting up here in the school library. The other girls are on Sporcle or applying wart remover, but I looked over at the bookcase next to me and what did I see? The Complete Works of Arthur Miller, and I've never read A View from the Bridge. So I took it and am now leafing through it. The librarian is glaring at me, but what good's it doing sitting there on the shelf? Anyway, there's not much point to a book unless there's somebody to read it.
Shattering news - I can't take a writing class in the city because I'm not 18 yet. Here's the thing - there are adults on inkpop. They shouldn't be there, but they are. And I'm better than they are. I know I am. The person looking to knock me out of the top ten is a fellow Guilty One. I've probably talked with her, laughed with her, sat next to her while we both screamed our lungs out. But my book is my baby. I brought it into this world, there's nobody else who knows it like I do, or who can fight for it like I do. So if you push me, I'll choose my loyalty to my work over my love for Spring Awakening. This is my craft, and I can't have another. Back to Mr. Miller.