Take a line from a song that you love or connect with. Now forget the song, and turn that line into the title or inspiration for your post.
“I thought I could fly, so why I drown?” – “Down” by Jason Walker.
As this song is sung by a male, I visualised a boy while writing this story. Therefore, the main character is a boy.
Maybe I’m too young to make rash decisions.
After all, becoming a writer is an unpredictable, unstable road. Some will like my books and others won’t. I’m not a one-hundred-dollar note every human loves. And when the bad reviews outweigh the good, I’ll be stuck in poverty and ultimately rot away.
I will leave the world without a trace. And, because I’ve spent the majority of my time on the computer, nobody would know me. Oblivion, the one thing I fear most, will strike.
My focus should be on my academics alone. Anything extra should be avoided. They won’t help me in life –or anybody else, for that matter. Stories are just stories. They’re fairy-tales, and everybody knows they’re nothing but a book of lies. When was the last time you read a fairy-tale and believed it?
The world won’t simply stop for me. It doesn’t stop for anybody, especially not arrogant people who believe they can change the world. If the major saints couldn’t achieve world-peace, what makes me think I can? My mind isn’t powerful; I have zero verbal communication skills and as for writing, I kid myself. I’m not as good as I’d like to think.
In fact, being published is an impossible dream. It would only be the start of my journey –if I reach the start at all. There is a morose yet very likely possibility I will never reach that stage of my life. So what will I look back on then? A boy with too many dreams and no ultimate success?
I can’t reach for the moon and fall among stars. My doubts, insecurities and self-pity prevents me from raising that hand up. Sometimes, I’m ashamed to be a writer. How can I compete with everybody else? There’s too much competition, too much unpredictability and the undying need to perfect every sentence, every word.
Humanity has failed me too many times. Optimism has led to pure disappointment. Too many betrayals, countless lies and the melancholiest flaw of all: not being able to trust anybody.
When I’m affected by the outside world, I write. Just to keep myself sane on the inside.
Maybe I’ll rot away without a trace. My words might be dismissed as another pathetic imitation of a previous more successful writer. Not to mention, my parents will never face me if my academic results drop. My spoken words are wonky, stuttered and sometimes too fast. The written words are nowhere near polished.
There are a million reasons why I shouldn’t write. But just one reason is enough to keep me going: writing is a defence mechanism. All those emotions, those words I never found the nerve to say spill out when equipped with writing equipment.
My pen is a shield. It’d be foolish to give it up.
I hope you enjoyed it. And, to some level, connected to this short-story. 🙂