I have fallen from my once exalted status as a great writer. Unknowingly jaded by compliment and cheer, I have lost my way; forsaking all that was gifted to me.
A myriad mind's eye, a plethora perspectives, ineffable imagination, copious cogitations & the separation only in the minutiae all limited by a sterling account of arrogance and a lack of proficiency.
Now everything is informal, even formalities. Nothing goes about the standard by which even the thought of is maverick'd away as the wild feather on a heavy breeze.
I'm better than this and I refuse to allow my descent into production and publication purgatory continue or gain in momentum.
The buck stops here. The conveying of any sentiment stops here. And the necessarry skills will no longer be over looked. As I realize that even though I seek to abolish this system, there are one too many followers, one too many a fool that thinks because I don't that I can't when I simply have fought it for so long that I need to learn how to stop fighting it/ relearn or however one may put it. All things are not equal when you account for personal preference.
Just because you like things one way, doesn't make it right and you arguing that it is right makes you wrong by trait.
Get over yourself. Grow. Reach for the sky and be real because you can't get there with lies. I mean its in the name: disguise. As in, anywhere but up.
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