I remember that clean, quiet room with no windows. The rug was puffy and soft and I loved to walk on it with no shoes or socks. It provided a small sense of warmth and comfort at a time when I needed so much more than that. My desk was made of glass and L-shaped. It was supposed to be the room where I’d write my first best-seller. I’d pull the wool over the world’s eyes, making them believe that I was actually something special so that I could ride that wave for as long as possible, to feel alive for a just little while.
There were many lonely nights with no sound coming from my apartment except for my fingers typing against the keyboard or the occasional movie, one that I had seen dozens of times but threw it on once again to try and rekindle that old spark for life.
As much as I loved to write, I realized what was missing was not my finishing a great fictional novel, but quite the opposite. I was searching for my own true-life story, complete with the girl of my dreams who would adore me and walk beside me into the unknown. I envisioned someone like me in many ways, but with her own convictions and feelings about the world, and time and space. That was back when I was a different sort of man, now that I have found her.
And so I’m searching once again, this time for what is supposed to come next. I know that I will always be a writer and I will forever love the art, the freedom, the relief of putting down on paper everything that runs through me. I may never complete a novel that is worth all the buzz, or I may – it’s a mystery to me. I try to follow my passions and my instincts, but I fear they may be greatly hindered by a far too complex mind. There seems to be so many thoughts, feelings I cannot describe, decisions I can’t seem to decide upon, and then some that are unpredictable, even to me.
It seems to be my time to write my heart out, so what is stopping me? People are listening. They are waiting for another story that might connect with them and help them through, because we are all lost. We are all waiting for direction, for love, for strength, for the right words. We are all connected and we need to feel those bonds, the links that bring us together.
Don’t give up on your dreams, don’t stop looking for someone to love, and keep your eyes open for the words that might just open your eyes. All I want is for my words to reach someone, anyone, like they have reached me.
And until the day I die, I’ll keep searching, too.