For most of my life, anyone that has ever known me would describe me as someone who yearns for information through literature.  At this point in my life, it is second nature for me to try and read as many articles, books, magazines, etc., whether they be fiction or non-fiction.  To be honest though, it had not always been that way.

In the 3rd grade, I had hardly come into my own skill set at any rate so far (but then again, who at that age really has?).   Seeing as that I had just moved to New York from Florida, I was working on finding friends within a new environment.  Just as I felt things were actually starting to get underway in that account, I suffered a leg injury, breaking both my Tibia and Fibula, due to a skateboarding accident.  The pain was insufferable, yet unrecognizable within my current state of mind.

When I arrived at school, with a cast wrapped up my entire left leg and my body seated firmly in a wheel chair, things were not looking up for me.  My teachers, unfortunately, insisted that I should not be allowed out for recess, given my condition.  This left me no other option but to go into the library, with a window arching over the field, allowing me access to view everyone but not take part in it.  While I’ll admit that all of this ended up helping me in the long run, forcing me to be kept in a room full of books alone, I admit that at the time I was furious with my circumstances.  This pattern lasted weeks, me going to the library while others were allowed outside, and after a while I could feel myself growing a fondness for books and information that was certainly never present before.

While everything eventually worked out socially, I was now imparted with a love for literature and knowledge that I probably never would have had otherwise and for that I am thankful for.