I am compelled to write. Write about I don’t know. Sometimes I’m convinced everything has been already said and all words have been spent. But then I think, ‘there is no reason for my own self-defecation. My sweet release is waiting for me to take letters into my own hands. I mold them into my sanctuary, my memories are safe from the Boogieman.’
Do I need to say a 1000 words? To prove my point? To show you I’m serious or maybe I’m careless! My scribbles aren’t a work of art. They are messy. Unreadable at times but is where my thoughts start. Scrabble, word puzzles and crosswords. Scrabble my writing, these words puzzles the mind when you cross them I’m sure.
I am compelled to write. One sentence at a time. One in a million. One of a kind.