It has been almost a year since my last post.
Lots have happened, lots haven't.
Let the brain fart begin, shall we?
I wish sometimes that I don't have the soul of a writer: the passion one gets when one focuses on something, the simplest instances develop into whole stories in a blink of an eye - a lingering smile into an epic romance, a moment's glare into a tale of oppression, a mediocre joke into the comedy of the century.
But changing who you are, is it worth it? To stay under the radar, to get your shit together?
I should change. I should stare my fears in the eyes and tell them to give me all they've got. But, of course, to quote that great man, I must bring my guns to the swordfight.
I shouldn't change. I must stay as someone who falls head over heels as easily as it is hard for him to even like someone. Maybe tone down the crazy a bit but then again, it's part of my charm.
Or lack of it, I don't even know.
Why can't these things be easy?
Blergh.
Lots have happened, lots haven't.
Let the brain fart begin, shall we?
I wish sometimes that I don't have the soul of a writer: the passion one gets when one focuses on something, the simplest instances develop into whole stories in a blink of an eye - a lingering smile into an epic romance, a moment's glare into a tale of oppression, a mediocre joke into the comedy of the century.
But changing who you are, is it worth it? To stay under the radar, to get your shit together?
I should change. I should stare my fears in the eyes and tell them to give me all they've got. But, of course, to quote that great man, I must bring my guns to the swordfight.
I shouldn't change. I must stay as someone who falls head over heels as easily as it is hard for him to even like someone. Maybe tone down the crazy a bit but then again, it's part of my charm.
Or lack of it, I don't even know.
Why can't these things be easy?
Blergh.
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