is it possible to be a writer without writing? i don't think so. but if it were to be, i'd certainly be one. sometimes i dare to dream of myself as a great writer, one who has changed the flow of history with his great work... novel, prose, poetry... does it really matter? in the realm of metaphysics, it really doesn't. it doesn't change the fact that i have no books in my name.
it doesn't change the fact that i have created a blog but haven't written in it for years now. it is here hypothetically to timidly etch out some of my less-insane-thoughts so that possibly someone, somewhere, can see a side of me that is closer to me (if that were possible) than normally, but a side still removed enough that the reader isn't scared by my transparency and forced to flee into the night at the thought of bearing the burden of someone else's joys and sorrows.
life is a powerful potion, one that can only be taken in small doses due to our distance from its Source. to drink someone else's potion becomes an experience too much for one person. each day has enough worries of its own, as Someone I know once put it. this said, time to do battle with the worries of this day.
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