I would write stories and hand them in to the teacher’s aid, and as obvious as is, I can’t remember what they were about but hearing them talk about it, I was an exceptional writer. I wrote as my imagination ran wild. When you are a kid, anything is possible. Rainbows have pots of gold at the end and fairytales aren’t so far-fetched. We dream of owning castles, of meeting our Prince (Or Princesses) and living Happily Ever After…But as we grow older, our imagination slowly dies, and so do most of our dreams.