I can’t write

I wish I could tell you all the things I have imagined.

I’m making up and forgetting content on a daily basis. I’ve wished and assumed a lot of things throughout my lifetime. I am wrong, my methods are wrong and everything about me is wrong. This is not how one should be.

My attitude will only lead me to more fierce and darker times. I’ve to stop introducing myself as a fellow who wants to write. It’s a baseless lie. I haven’t written a single piece worth reading, not even a sentence.

I make up a lot of things to write in my mind. But, when I actually start to write, it doesn’t happen. I feel limited. Limited in vocabulary, motivation, content, simplicity and equipments. To improve I must read more at first. And I don’t want to. I don’t want to read but want to write. I’ll do no wonders and yet I’m expecting wonders and making people expect them too.

The result as always will be heartbreaking. But the truth is I Will Not Change. This arrangement of pain will continue without a pause.

  • How long does a person live without a cause?

  • How can one learn without a guide?

  • Does a lie replace the truth when repeated a million times?