"The early summer sky was the color of cat vomit".

I was thirteen and was nearing the end of my eighth-grade year. I didn't have a real sense of purpose in the world. I had no passions, nothing that made me want to jump out of bed in morning. My world was very empty. Until that day in English class when my teacher had us read a book. When she passed us each a copy of the book though I didn't know how much that book with its 425 pages and an ugly cover would open up a whole world for me.

In class, we would read a chapter but it wasn't enough so at home I would read three more. That kept up until I finished the book before anyone else. I remember sitting in class when we would read and the anxiety would disappear. I remember reading at home and how reality would melt away and the only thing that existed were the characters. I remember feeling alive for the first time. I remember feeling happy for the first real time in my life.

After I finished that book I went on to read the series and I started to find myself as I continued to read. Thanks to that book I was able to figure so many things out about myself. I can't make myself write them down because they are too personal but I am so thankful that I was able to read that book and all the others that came after it.