"If people were rain, I was drizzle and she was hurricane." I feel like a small child showing my latest scribble from art class to my mum when I post a new piece on here. I feel like my age works in my favour a little.. I'm 16, meant to be studying for my upcoming exams but instead I am immensely immersed in reading poems from every walks of life and drafting ideas for my own potential works. I'd like to think I was born way too late,you know? I have a feeling Oscar Wilde and I would have been great friends, I could have pictured Sigmund Freud and I arguing over the beauty of not knowing what a thought actually is whilst we drank our 7th cup of tea of the day. There are very few people, my age, that I find I can share my love for the arts. I mean what is life without philosophy and poetry? Says the girl who less than 4 weeks ago was certain of her medical career path. I've barely had a nibble at what this extravagantly zesty world has to offer, I feel like I can taste a few crumbs of the zest through poetry. Speaking like I actually was in France under the Eiffel tower when I discovered I had met the love of my life or speaking like I actually have the experience of the wise words i express in several of my poems and writings.. Age is just a number.. But then I am quickly reminded by my 'dream dashing' and 'soul destroying' teenage friends that weed is just a plant and jail is just a room... Oh well. Life goes on.