It comes late at night as I sit in bed and close the cover on another amazing story that someone else has written. A work that has once again slightly altered my perceptions on the world and filled my head with swirling thoughts and ideas. And I admire and envy these people for having the things I want; a comfortable life, and the appreciation for the words they write, and the pictures they draw. It's then I realize that all I have to do it get out of bed, got to my studio, touch pen to paper, and the work that will get me everything I want will appear right there in front of me. All I would need to do it get up, and work into the darkness, until the sun rose again. One night's work. It would be as simple as that.
But then I think that I am, actually, very tired, and fame and glory can wait another day.
Deleting Account Part 2...
2 years ago