Whinings of the day-22nd of December 2004

It is not for money, that i write and it's definitely not for fame. I do not write to impress and i do not write to scare. I am not a consciousness of the masses, and neither am i a social butterfly. I am not an expert on anything. Then why do i write?

I write because the universe commands me to. It beckons me to itself, and puts a pen in my hand. I obey it and write. It shows me the beauty of the world and i write upon that and when it shows me its miseries, i write upon those. It puts me through angst, torture, anger, and wills me to put down everything i feel. It fills me up with joy, and it crashes me to the ground. It makes me addicted to this affliction. Like the person who after constant pain, ends up enjoying the pain, i too have started enjoying this torture. Yet while I am the master of my agony, i'm also its slave. I am the victim, yet i am also the tyrant. T'is a strange symbiosis.

Why do i write you ask? I write.....because i must.