Before my scheduled arrival to this world, God asked me what I wanted to be. "A writer." I said. "Granted." he smiled kindly for he is kind, generous, and God.

Thus, I started with a blank sheet, an ink-pen and a lifetime to write. The page seemed insufficient and my story was too long but I had to write, that is what I had wished for.

After years of writing I realised that the page still looked blank for the most part. Then I began to worry about the ink; how long would it last for? By the time I started to trust the pen my story was a mess.

I was too worried about the paper and the ink, which were God's responsibilities, to focus on what was supposed to be my responsibility. Even worse, it was an autobiography.

Somedays, I feel like rolling my life into a ball and throwing it out of the window. Somedays, all the previous lines I've written make no sense at all. Somedays, I wonder how to end the story.

Somedays, I want to rewrite everything. But I know it won't work. Even if somehow I begin to like my story, I'll never like my handwriting.

But it'd still be my best work ever because that's the only book that matters, the only book that I'd ever write.

© TRQ

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