Have you ever experienced extreme love? The kind of love that you cannot live without. That no matter what you do, you are not good enough.
This is my love toward writing. I’m obsessed with writing but no matter how I try to explain it, I’m too banal, uncreative and repetitive. My flaws are enhanced and freshly created; weak vocabulary, confusing style, uncategorized.
So I stop. I take a break and when I think I’m ready to start again, I have that idea that could save us. It starts over again. My love is too oppressing that I lose focus of what I want to try to express and the fear of failing keeps invading my mind. I start losing faith and pray for a miracle that I know will never come.
My love is tormented, mad, incurable. But my love stands still, as when I’m not writing all I can think of is writing. Strong and will never give up.