It's all a part of my fickle imagination. None of this is real.
Real or Not Real? Not Real.
These votes, these comments, these smiles, these hugs. It's all temporary. These friends will not last. These admirers will not last. These haters will not last.
This little fame of mine, which I have acquired, will not last.
There will be someone better than me to take my place. This reviews will not be mine forever. This criticism will not be mine forever.
It did matter. Once. I contemplated to the extent of oblivion, searched for my yearning of recognition, to find that there was none.
It's all fickle. It'll all fade.
But my passion will not. This urge to to write, to let my brain vomit up it's thoughts as words, will never go away. It is going to be with me, until the end. Even if no one reads it.
This is a beautiful feeling, a satisfying happiness. It is for me.
Even if my readers fade away, my words will not. It'll remain here, forever.
A/N: Just a small blabber.
YOU ARE READING
Histoires Courtes
General Fiction"Musings and stories of an ordinary girl, who's just trying to sum up her infinite stream of thoughts into small little miracles."