Talk of adults makes me think, though. I never thought they had brains or feelings or the need to go to the bathroom. But I do. Technically, I am one of those. But, dear reader, I do not in any way feel like one.
I love the freedom to do anything, any time it pleases me. It is like potential energy, though. The bow is drawn, the arrow pointed. I just don't know where to shoot. I have looked into the future and I am famous there. I have many best-selling novels there. People love me there. I am a writer.
But I also wonder what will be next. What should I prepare for now so that when that one dream is real, all the others can be as well? Is it inconceivable that I might tire ever so slightly of that future life?
I want to be like Leonardo Da Vinci. I want to be great. Writing is magnificent because as any character, in any world, I can be.
Just, how do I make it real?
Youth really is wasted on the young.
.Lily
I write in defence from reality
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