I need to stop writing because I might just be good at it. Okay maybe that’s too extreme, maybe I can just stop publishing my blog posts – they might be better off as drafts.
Yes maybe drafts are better, I can pile up all my thoughts and they will never be seen and I would never revisit them just in case I get tempted to post them and let the whole world see.
I’m surely no Shakespeare, my English is far too simple – but oh how convenient, people cannot handle complicated, they don’t even understand my previous post.
Oh snap I need to stop writing. I might just be good at it and I’ll get what I wish for; write some books and get rich and famous – then my biggest fears will come true and I’ll end up like my beloved Avicii.
Many times I never stopped to think what the consequences of success could be. Everyone who’s holding my secrets might just come and spill the beans just to get their name on the community mop and wipe away all my innocence and privacy – I don’t want to be rich and famous.
So maybe I should stop writing or maybe I can just stop making sense, I can never try being boring so I’ll start now with the mathematics that birds don’t dwell on and neither did I when I passed through the tunnel and became man and then boy and then faded into thinking – yes surely I’ve lost them and they’ll never read me again…I can continue writing never to be famous today.