After downing several cups of strong black coffee with the intent to warm up my stomach and wake up my slumbering brain which totally could not think of anything, the goal right now is to speed-type, pound on the keyboard with all my might and mental prowess to keep abreast with the velocity of caffeine-induced thinking.
Ending a short stint in a writing job that I consider to be a corruption of my philosophy of what writing should be, I am left with a blank, sluggish mind that could not think of anything but my inability to write. Coupled with frustration and realization of the permanence of change, the only option available to me is to vent, in this short moment of lucidity, my energy on writing what I in the first place set as the reason and the cause as to why I put myself in this journey and lifetime of romance with the language.
Failure is not an option. It could never be. On the second thought, this strong statement is nothing but a show of useless chest-thumping. Failure it will be if I don’t start at this very moment.
So let go of the rock that support me and let me fall; for it is the only way that I can fly.
Here we go…
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