I was that weird kid who liked to write for fun.

I loved writing assignments in elementary school—only sometimes I did really poorly on them because I just assumed I was better than everyone else and I would have no problem. In other words, I didn't try that hard.

I can't remember when I started to write for fun. But I think it was around third grade. I had a rough third grade year, but it is a widely known fact that third grade was the year my best friend encouraged me to pick up a Harry Potter book, and I never looked back.

Harry Potter and The Chronicles of Narnia series—"The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe" movie came out that year— inspired me to write.

I think the first story I ever tried to write was similar to "Alice in Wonderland." It was about five kids who fell down a sort of rabbit hole and entered a bizarre dystopia that they would eventually have to conquer. I wrote 33 pages, single-spaced on Microsoft Word, before I lost interest. I probably worked on it for at least a year.

Since that first story—and I will never forget it, because I put a lot of time into it—I have never been able to stick with anything that long. Granted, I haven't actually sat down to write for fun in at least four years.

I would get tired of writing, and I never thought anything I did was very good. I thought it didn't make sense. And in all honesty, I got tired of hearing my own voice. It's one thing to think of something in your head, but everything is completely different on paper.

Since high school, my writing has been limited to school assignments—essays, applications, reading responses, emails, and school newspaper and Odyssey articles (both of which have probably stopped me from going insane at times).

It's been a long time since I've written anything for fun. It's been a long time since I've written solely for me, or for my third-grade self's dream of becoming an author.

Becoming a professional writer is not necessarily my life's dream anymore— I don't think it's my calling — though I can't deny, it would be pretty awesome to publish a book.

I liked who I was a lot more when I wrote for fun. I liked that I had a big imagination, and that I embraced fantasy. I liked creating dream worlds of pirates, and strange creatures, and magical powers. I liked that I was creative and doing something independently, just for me. I don't feel that way too much anymore, and I would argue that a lot of people don't.

Hobbies are important—often overlooked and underrated. But they fill you with a certain happiness, an excitement, that you can't get from doing things you have to do, like schoolwork or a job or a chore.

Writing for fun taught me that I like to write; it taught me how to be a better writer.

It taught me to appreciate books, and it inspired me to read. It taught me to be creative with school assignments and to appreciate the teachers that encourage imagination, the importance of grammar, and fine written work.

Writing taught me that it's okay to escape into my mind, if only for the purposes of a story that may or may not one day get published.

There's a lot to be learned from what one puts on a page.

I don't know when I will sit down to write for fun again. It may not happen for a while.

But I'd like to think I learned something from the many hours I spent typing the contents of my mind on my computer.

I hope that I can one day enjoy it again, and maybe— maybe —something exciting will come of it.