'Don't tell me the moon is shining, show me the glint of light on broken glass.'
- A. Chekov

Words, words, words... dancing in my head. One side of the mind occupied with understanding all things, another busy imagining stories, yet another reined in to deal with your reality. Guess which sides are happier, and which is the one that constantly rebels against the task?

I would truly hate to be writing cheesy stories for the sake of it... No, I'd rather cut off both my hands. Each must have a deeper point that would allow for my thoughts to be better 'digested' by others.

It's so strange... every time I think of one of the stories I have in mind, I realise that each bears its own main struggles in terms of writing it. One I am still unable to write the right introduction and first chapter, yet most of the story itself was flowing almost painlessly out of my head... but without a first chapter, you might as well kill the story as a whole, in a way. Another story brings about the greater difficulty of thorough research and language style. With yet another, I have no difficulty writing the beginning, but get stumped with the 'heart' of the story itself, or rather the structure that should be used for it (because of jumps in the timeline within the story), etc, etc...

Then there is the issue of me getting lost in my own head, seeing stories like a movie, and every time I 'watch' them, more intricate detail is added in layers... But it makes it too easy to just keep watching while forgetting to write.

I'm not worried though, for I experienced how it felt when the time was right for a story to come out at least in a draft form... when the idea has matured enough in my head, it seems that I am quite capable of complete dedication to the task.

Words, words, words...

Once upon a tide
Washing over my life,
The breathing ocean
That knew no boundaries

Stretches over the land
Drenched in sorrows forgotten
In the pit of the mouth of hell
Opened one day, and only by chance

When all was blind and withered,
And only tears came out from a single eye
On the forehead of Time fleeing
The senseless rule of Man.