Tyler Pierpont, Staff Writer
There are no words that can describe me. The 1,025,109 words (google it, I know a lot of little facts, that is one) there are in the english language can not help you understand who I am. I could describe my hobbies that arrange from playing sports for mere fun, not competition, to watching the most boring documentaries to learn one or two facts that no one will ever need to know. I could tell you about my love for music, that there is not a single genre I hate, not even country or house music. Scratch that, death metal isn’t something I’d listen to. There’s the reasons I like writing, because of Dan Brown, he wrote Angles and Demons, Da Vinci Code, and a lot of other amazing books, and that I had what I believed to be amazing stories that could even match his (it’s mainly confidence, not an accurate fact, they wouldn’t be anywhere close). I might even tell you that if you ever wanted to find me the last place you’d want to look is my house, because I spent most of my time out at friends or at parks and fields playing sports. No matter how many little facts I tell you, or how much words I use to describe myself, you won’t know me till you read my stories.
