I AM A WRITER

I am a writer.

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My mind is an ocean of fantasies and rhymes. It runs through the unknown trenches of my hopes and frustrations. Feeding my soul with metaphors and illusions. Nurturing me with the promise of endless possibilities. My weakness, my strength. My escape from reality.

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I am a writer.

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I am the author of my own confusions and doubts, my happiness and failures. I blame myself for everyone's suffering because I know I could have done something to stop it. I blame my self for the conflict among races because I believe that nobody's perfect. I blame my self for the world-wide crisis because I know that my life had been a waste. Everything is my fault because I can't blame anyone else.

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I am a writer.

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My veins are filled with words I cannot speak; of phrases waiting to be told; of verses haunting my conscience every day. This overwhelming rush of passion sometimes knocks me down. Sometimes its just too much for me to take. Intoxicating. Impulsive. Incomprehensible.

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I am a writer.

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But that doesn't entitle me any privilege to control my emotions. I cry, I laugh, I worry. I feel. Just like everyone else.

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I am not special. I am just aware.

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I am awake.

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I am alive.

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I live to write.

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I am a writer --

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I am a silent, misguided soul who attempts to interfere with your thoughts and feelings. To inspire. To enlighten. To encourage.

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I am a child with an eager desire to learn. A child who wants to see the world from a different perspective. In hopes that maybe, when I see it differently it would somehow look better.

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I am a dreamer who wants to make a difference.

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A friend. A teacher. A student.

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I am a writer.

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A normal person, just like you, and everybody else --

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Or at least I try to be.