Glass

For a heartless idiot, I am far too sentimental for my own good. Seamlessly, I am starting to come to terms to the once gory fact that I will never be a writer. I will, as all things that have ever slipped out of my mouth, only aspire and write about it. Don't be sad for me or even convince me otherwise, no matter how much you like me. I know what I am and a writer is not it. It was probably idiotic of me even to think having writing as my profession would satisfy my concerns and aspirations. I will remain religious with my love for it. But this time without preaching or hollering or praying on my knees with my hands clasped in front of me and my eyes shut pathetically. I won't stop doing what this is I do but I also will probably not pursue. This isn't a resignation but simply an acknowledgment. (Besides I can't resign something I hardly committed). But also, as all things that slip out of my mouth, this holds no permanence, and most likely has a lifespan. Until I can write my red, red and purple heart out, then this is what I know. I'm not sad about it or even complaining about it. In fact, I am currently at peace with myself, pertaining to this particular subject. It's better this way.