Coffee and biscuits

My biggest regret in life so far is not having the guts to even start writing the stories that are overpopulating my mind.It's lame,but it's true.

Every single time I get some sort of "spark of genius",the phrase "it's all been done before" comes to mind and I just end up sitting there,paralyzed and utterly defeated.

I used to think I was special because I could write better than the people I knew and that defined me to a great extent.Then I started reading,researching,doubting-not big names,but people who weren't in textbooks or museums or popular culture.And I wept on the inside because I wasn't special anymore.

I was just a silly girl,holding on to her coffee and biscuits and literary fantasies.

This,this daily thing,this is a lie and I know it all too well.It's a glittery anchor that's distracting me from the sight of a sinking ship.

Oh,I'm so damn afraid!Of failing!Of succeeding!Of finding a meaning to this life I decided to treat with utmost indifference.

Stories live and stories die within the confines of my brain all the time,while I do nothing about it.Such a sad fate...