I wrote some time ago being average and that once you are average there is little you can do. Before that I wrote about being slightly above average, thanks to an online IQ test. Now I write to you about my fears. I have realised that I may be becoming average.
The urge to create and dream has left me; I sit down before my unloved laptop, full of movies and shows rather than words, and force myself to write about this idea that has plagued me for several days now.
The pull of the literary world has left me. No longer do I dash for pen and paper when an idea emerges from my mind late at night. Nor do I wipe soapy water from my hands to type a phrase into my phone mid-shower.
No, I sit now terrified that my once mildly remarkable talent has left me. Heh, if I believed in a god of any kind I would pray to them. I don't want to lose this; it has been my only saving grace in this world. The only thing I have ever been able to rely on and now
.. Perhaps I am no longer worthy. Or I took advantage of it for too long.
Perhaps I outgrew it? The childish dreaming I once held has been replaced with maturity and a horrible dry and dull life. Oh, please don't let this be the case!
Let the words flow again! The twitching fingers and the unceasing thought burst forth from my empty and fruitless mind!
Let me live again