Of course you are.
A writer.
That’s what you are.
You want to earn a living saying what’s on your mind.
You don’t want to work hard.
You don’t want to be exhausted.
You want to be famous.
Famous for telling whatever crazy thing comes to your mind.
You want people to adore you.
You want to feel loved.
Of course you are a writer.
Of course you are.
You want to write to enlighten people with things they don’t know.
You want to make people notice things they miss.
You want to make people fall in love with you.
You want to be as honest as it can get.
Sometimes you’re too honest.
So honest – people actually feel sad for you.
But you want that.
For some reason.
You don’t know why but it makes you feel special.
Cos you’re a writer.
And that’s what you are.
A writer.
Like everyone else on the planet.
You write.
Like everyone else.
You punch something into that piece of paper.
You think you’re great and the best there ever was.
But you’re not.
Of course.
Because you are a writer.
Like me.
I’m a writer.
I just push buttons.
It’s just words.
Letters.
Ink.
Pixels.
Binary.
Atoms.
Really nothing.
It’s just me.
The universe as I explore it.
I’m a writer.
I’m a writer.
Yes, of course I am.
And there’s no beauty in it.
Writing is a fertilizer.
It makes thoughts grow.
Nothing more, nothing less.
I’m not a writer.
I am dung.