I've been badly wanting to create a blog but before ideas can even seep their way through the blogging world, I have noooooo means to impart them. Pen and paper might be very, very powerful tools, but admit it, those callused fingers from the pressures of writing can be very discouraging. I have a high tolerance for manual way of making stories and stuffs but at the end of the day, the immense want to possess an easier tool for my passion to write leaves me to hanging from what I've left off, and before I even notice it, the drive to finish creating an established world of thoughts is suddenly crumbling, crumbling, crumbling ... The pieces of imagination were right down the trail and I'm heading to somewhere called "aversion". The term just blows my mind because it's too perfect to describe a situation where you feel you are extraordinary but you are the only one who believes that so you degrade yourself to the point of thinking ways on how to become worthless everyday because, why not, I have not even proven anything yet. The level of hypocrisy sometimes affects my aspirations. For example, I'm broke, I can not afford to buy a desktop computer or a laptop to start something. I will not pretend I can finish an actual manuscript just because I'm deprived of some means to accomplish something. I just believe the reality I'm in so I will make an "aversion" from what I love and seek for something I'm very good at and thank gosh I did because photography also turns my artistic side on. So now, I do not know where my loyalty is: writing or photography. To hell with choosing. I love doing them both. (I do not know how I end up talking about these things)
But writing is somehow as satisfying as finding out for the first time the meaning of a certain word from the dictionary. It gives you purpose to elaborate the beautiful world. It gives beautiful world for people who seek for purpose. If that does not make me worthy yet, then I do not know what will. Achieving empathy is the greatest payment a writer could ever earn. For you, dear reader, maybe I'm just a string of confusion but I have an explanation to that. Maybe I can not win some parts of your heart but I will be very happy if you find something that will make you the very purpose of somebody else's purpose. The moment you've reached that point, you will understand the contentment that I have achieved.
Now, let the fate hunting begins ...
