"Do you love writing?" my older sister asked me when she found out I wanted to major in English.
"Yes," I told her.
"Then for the love of god," she said, taking me by the shoulders and shaking me, "don't major in it. They will suck all of the fun out of it and you will hate it by the time you're done."
She was speaking from experience. She had majored in music and now refuses to have anything to do with it. But I told myself that this was different. That I was different.
I should have listened to her. She was right.
After a 7-year hiatus, I have rediscovered my passion for writing.
And I don't want to love Cato. I really don't.
But, alas, I have a bad boy complex.
And this is the result.