I don’t remember what I was going to write about. Or maybe I have nothing to write about – which is why I keep stalling at the beginning of sentences. I absolutely hate it when that happens, when you stall at the beginning of sentences. But granted, I’ve never been a good writer. So it’s only natural that I’m always stalling at the beginning of sentences. Oh, but how far I’ve made it already – I’ve made it far past the first sentence. This was what he told me, wasn’t it? – that I just had to keep writing. He promised me that something would come out of it if only I kept writing.

You see, I’ve always wanted to become a writer, even though I knew that I wasn’t a good writer. Ever since I learnt the secret rapture of writing, I thought writing was going to be my destiny. Just like those great authors whom wrote ceaselessly and never once in their writings ceased being eloquent, I too would write ceaselessly and with ceaseless eloquence.

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