I have come to the realization that I am not a writer, I am a creative. I'm constantly thinking up new ideas, new scenarios, new scenes/characters/plots, etc. but I lack the ability to articulate such thoughts. I feel like I could artfully craft a brilliant story had I only the talent of writing (or had thought alone been enough to create) but art takes talent. Had just owning a paint brush, some paint and a blank canvas been enough to craft the Mona Lisa then I'd be a masterful painter, as famous as Leonardo Da Vinci himself, but I am not. Had just owning a pen and paper and a creative thought been enough for me to craft a bestselling novel then I'd be on the New York Times Bestseller's List but I am not. It takes raw talent (or being an apprentice of raw talent) to truly have the skill, the patience, the determination, and the knowledge of storytelling to truly write-out thoughts into words in such an artful way as to create a masterpiece; a masterpiece that is publishable and loved by millions of readers from around the world. I will never experience such a pleasure beyond my own applause. I am an entertainer of one. I am an entertainer of myself; for my thoughts are my own and I have no way of sharing them (at least no way that would do them justices). I am like a paralyzed Michelangelo starring at the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, knowing it's a sin I can't manifest my thoughts beyond my own imagination. But that is where it remains, no further than the voice in my own mind. Slowly rotting. Wasting away with time. I still have a lifetime ahead of me but I've accepted the fact I'm not a writer. I will only ever be a creative. The world will never even know they've been cheater, deprived of the greatest story never told. So this is my apology to the world. This is my resignation. Goodbye pen and paper. Goodbye voice recorder. Goodbye computer. I need you no longer. My thoughts need no longer be preserved. My manuscripts need no longer be revised, reviewed or rewritten. I am now a common man, accepting a common life. Ash can finally settle over the place where my dreams once set fire. Darkness shall finally have its victory over me. Goodbye.
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