There are times when I don’t know what to write. Other times, I don’t have enough page for all my words. In both times, however, I have to use extra caution, for I have to choose what readers read. My points have to be quick, easy to find, yet somehow complicated. No one’s attention is as long as it used to be. Not even mine. I get bored quickly of my own writing. But it all makes the task of writing harder. Yet easier, depending on the day. Though my lust for words and story will never diminish. Not until my last breath of life escapes me. There are times when I want to say everything. Times when I want to say nothing at all. Even still, as long as there’s a glimmer of hope that just one person will view my words, I will not stop until I die. And for all this, I say thank you, for if there were no readers, my job and dream would be extinct.