- Books, Literature, and Writing
A Writer's Struggles
Some days you just want to give up. Give up on your hopes your dreams. Your voice that is otherwise shut under a lock and key. With your words you can speak loud and shout. You can touch a soul that is perhaps kindred to your own. With your words you can save a life or cause a fight, make someone love or make someone appalled. You ask yourself why do you write. Why do I write? I pause in this…I write therefore I am. I write because it’s a passion, I write to be heard and to share. I hope to move and touch a soul with my words and my thoughts. In a world where words were meant to crush me I want to write words that can be true and uplifting. I want to write truth in all its bitterness. I want to write to open eyes and make people think again. People have a vanity with their rose colored glasses that everything is black and white and there are no other answers. Really now? I want to make you think, to be of open mindedness.
All in all I will get no where then. For writing is a harsh business. I’m too unique and eccentric. I dare to be difference and people don’t like difference. I am not too sure on how long I should wait or should I just publish myself. Is there a part in the writing world for me? Will I amount to anything? Amount to anything before I put us all in poverty. A single mom with nothing but a dream. I am no JK Rowling nor do I want to be. I just want a book out that people will enjoy and like to read. Id settle for an underground cult following. Keep dreaming the dream illusion of dream that I will make it as anything. But my flicker will not die the fire wont go out. You shoot me down you think I’m dead, yet I get back up I hold my wound and look at you wondering why? Why did you shoot me with those words? Why do you hate me? What did I do? Are you jealous do you want to do what I do? For no words of hostility should be uttered just for a girl and her dream. I have gotten praised by my writing teacher he convinced me I have some talent in me. The hurt turns to anger and fuels my fire and I only come back stronger and with more power. I wonder how many times it will take to shoot me down to and face reality. But like a phoenix from the ashes I rise again brand new. Only to get shot down again and come back. Am I a fool? No I am a writer.