Preliminary

What started my interest in words, to begin with, was my yearn to know every possible word that came across me. I began to proficiently read at the age of 5, and I may have actually known to have began reading at an earlier age, but that's because I don't remember the struggle of learning letters since I picked it up like I did with books so quickly. Every week I was required to read a book for kindergarten; although, it felt like they were too easy, and naturally, I began to read books surpassing my level of education.  It had urged me to progress onto the more complex words and increasing difficulties that were yet to come because I felt that I needed to fill the void of sequestering myself in doubt that reading was too easy. I remember that my brother used to ready the hardy boys, an old mystery series of two brothers that went on questionably precarious lengths to solve a mystery much like in Scooby-Doo. He is 6 years older than me, so he was in the sixth grade at the time, and here I was just begging him to tell me what it's about because it kind of discouraged me to attempt to read. The reason for that was because it appeared lengthy to read, but with an ample amount of motivation from him, I decide to read it. Sooner or later I came across a word I did not understand, and to put it simply, it frustrated the hell out of me! Word after word, came with more frustration and denial that I had mastered reading. It opened a new perspective of what there was out to there for me to learn, and the problem was that I didn't know how. Shortly after reading, I put the book down in distress then proceeded directly to my brother to ask him what some words meant, and not even he understood what they meant. The next step was to ask my mother who had been too busy with cooking, and tells me to look in the dictionary. I had no idea what she just told me, but she seemed aggravated enough to not ask. Luckily, my brother knew what it was, and in just under 30 seconds, I see that he had brought out a novel-sized, brown paged, bright red book. It read, Merriam-Websters, along with some other scripture that said, 10,000 Words. Puzzled, I angrily tell him "That's just another book!", while he simply continues to just open it up in search for Waldo as it seemed. Once he found what he was looking for, he turns the book over to me, and recites the word and definition of "dictionary". I look at him in amazement, while repeating only the words I knew and understood to him, "a book that gives other words' meaning". I had him repeat it just to make sure of what he said.