Friday, January 7, 2011

pieces of shit

When you have neither the will, nor the time, or the environment, forget a proper tool; and haven't practised for ages, what you write is peices of shit, for the bin. Read this to believe it. I have no doubt that writing is what I should do, for that is what I do best.

However, in life there are choices we make and we don't often have the freedom to choose where we head. So, we choose based on others' judgement, hope they are right and believe they are right, for after we have commited, we don't want to seem to be a failure going back on your decision, even if it was someone else's to begin with.

I have let myself be as others will, and now there is no going back. I have got to stick it out, believe I am onto the right path, and work single-mindedly on it. I look forward to the satisfaction of accomplishment, the pat on the back for a job well done, the approval of people, the rewards to prove these are all genuine. I live my life chasing shadows, unsure if I will ever be where I want to be, unsure of every step I take, not sure where I will eventually land.

I have little confidence facing up to the world on terms I am uncomfortable with and I have gradually conceded ground on my strength...I am not sure where I am headed with this ramble, my point was, at this juncture, I am not being what I would have been best doing, I am running everywhere except where I should, I am losing conviction, principles, and letting the world dictate terms on me...I am fighting on borrowed ammunition I am ill-equipped for, but I am too afraid to go back now, may be on some other time, but not now...I have lost my touch, it stinks now, my writings, they are shits, forget it! Till another time.

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