if i’d say Radagast is Russian, would you believe me?
Thursday, November 9th, 2006this isn’t really for me. i was wrong. mistaken. very mistaken.
i suck big time.
the thing is, there’s no turning back. i sooo want to turn back.
this isn’t what i wanted. the program isn’t for me (and the other way around, i guess.)
of all the things i really want to do (next after eating) is to write madly. just write. and the freedom to write anything i could think of, and anything that i could not.
i could do my own illustrations. create them just the way i wanted. the way i immortalized the characters in my creations. i’d draw, and i know somebody out there would think i’m drawing a boa constrictor instead of a hat. somebody who will believe in me and the person that i could become.
i wanted to create stories. create my fantasies. make others believe that the star is in fact a lady… that Saruman and Gandalf could be friends… that you can actually visit Rivendell if you are born brilliant… that Radagast is Russian… that you can do your own hand-writing analysis… you can be john doe… that you can make up plainly everything, and be everything.
except that, i couldn’t. i’m in the wrong side of the road. the hardest part is, looking back, i could no longer see (and recognize) even my own footsteps. i wanted to go back and be brave enough to do the thing i love most. but i’m afraid i don’t know where to start, and where i am going to.
will you take me to that place, please? i’m holding a blank paper and pen, not a map. i don’t know where i am heading… and to which directions. or should i start from here? from my paper and pen?
