Breakfree: Igniting passion, Chasing freedom Simply, one writes to be heard. Whether it be by a person you most dear, people you bear grudge against, by your country or by yourself, one writes to be read. But it has never been a simple obligation to hear out voices in your head, and you try to talk to them like good old friends and convince them to strike a pose in paper by means of words. Some of them mutter then slip away, not agreeing the way you dress them in letters; while a few choose to stay, flaunting confidently with poise. So when rhythm of literature plays upon your writer's hand will then they harmonize and start to dance. There's a sense of euphoria like that of a launching eagle, gliding through space of freedom, when you bury seeds of your thoughts with a quill. You plant your idea with your passion being the light and you pour your soul into it, so when it starts to grow, and you let it be, you'll feel from above how lovely it is to be free. To write is to make love with liberty. Either you want it gentle, or you prefer choking, you'll eventually end up freeing something.

I'm scared of the sea. I can't help but think of the danger it brings. The width and depth seem forever. But I know that someday, I'm going to swallow all my fears and sail into that immense body of menace. Because I have to find him. I have to see him. I have words I haven't told him yet. There are things he needs to know and I don't care if it matters now or it never really mean anything at all. I just have to find him.