I’ve been thinking for a while about silly little stuff I used to write when I was in elementary. Stupid books. Short stories. Completely unadulterated and entirely simple things. Through the years, I know I haven’t thrown any of that out, really. At least nothing that really meant anything. So I’d gotten to wondering where all of that stuff was at. I searched my room. I searched my house. Why, I even searched the hard drives of old computers (though that might be in a different section). I knew there was old stuff of mine somewhere.

And I found it.

So without further ado, I welcome you to share in the analysis and absurdity of shit I wrote when I was in elementary.

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