Ooo I'm on a roll. During subjects in school you really dont like, or when you get bored like if your laying in bed at night, you write things in your head but they never make it to paper most of the time, but you still make up things and stories and poems.
(do you know how many things I've written in my head at three in the morning, head tilted back to stare at the moon through the shades and the gaps in the branches
how many times I've woken up cold in a house with no heating and drawn the blankets around me and written in my head about flames and hearthstones and been warmed by the words themselves and dozed off again
how often I write storm-fed sonnets and lullabies to the tune of a tornado but can't move from the hallway for fear of being blown away on the way to the notebooks
no, what I keep on paper is only the tiniest fragment of what I write, and it's sad but it's also lovely because there's something great about just letting the words fade away into the depths of my head again)