Math class was boring.

History seemed irrelevant.

Chemistry was just dangerous.

But Literature...

She was different.

She had rules...but if broken the right way...

It was okay.

She was exciting.

She wanted to be used.

Manipulated.

As long as I did so creatively, she didn't mind. ^

She was complex.

She was popular, as she'd received many nicknames from those who'd encountered her before.

Some called her poetry.

Short stories.

Novels.

However, no matter what she was called when you encounter her,

if you ask anybody: "Who is that?"

They'll smile and respond:

"Oh. That's Literature."