Here I stand an enigma of a man, a victim of my own actions and a prisoner of my thoughts.
In my life, my short life, I’ve wanted to be various things, but never have I wanted to be something substantial enough to be anything.
I am a dreamer and I’ve always been a dreamer, but my dreams are slowly turning into delusion.
I am at the start of a journey, a journey I started three years ago but sadly I’m still at the docks,
watching the ship called opportunity about to sail but being determined not to be left behind.
I want to be a writer, or a poet, or a director, at least an artisan of some sort,
I’ve had these wild ideas since I was younger and still they haunt me, moments in the day they pop up in mind like ghouls begging no to be forgotten, begging for justice.
I believe that if I were to die and had not at least written down my works and ideas then I had murdered those ideas,
and if those ideas or works had not been shared then I had done a great injustice to them, for no matter my fears of how amateurish my works might be,
I believe if they are received by others with feedback both positive and negative then at least they have been experienced.
So I’m starting my journey and you are invited to join me, watch me grow, I cannot promise that whatever comes out of this will be good or even mildly enjoyable,
but with the whole of my heart I promise it will be genuine.