Pride and Excuses

What is the point of writing if you're too afraid of how it might come out?

Writing is like taking a picture. You don't stand around with a camera waiting for some grand inspiration or idea to take you. You go and you make opportunity. And maybe the shot doesn't come out alright, but you took it didn't you? And now you have something to learn from, something to look back on, something of yourself.

I stood around with my camera these past twenty days, and I took no pictures. I made no memories. I had nothing to share. And for that I am ashamed. Do I expect perfection? Can I not take a risk by writing what I think? I became fabricated. Mechanical. And I cannot promise that it won't happen again.

I could blame graduation. I could blame the existential vacuum. I could blame all hosts of things from left to right and money to time but that's not right. That's an excuse. And I will not place my pride above my will to knowledge.

I'm not the next of them. I am the first of me. And I'm back.