It’s old because it’s been tried before.
It’s old because I’ve tried it before.
It’s old because I’ve failed.
But that doesn’t mean that I will not try again. I will try again. I will always try again. And if I never become a published author, well, at least I’ll have spent my whole life trying.
I refuse to quell this love of words, to let the knowledge that there are others who are so much better flower and bloom and wither me in the process. I refuse to allow myself to live in a world where I cannot write. I’m tired of being so scared.
So I’ll keep blundering and failing forward. I’ll keep using my words and learning more of them. I’ll keep holding on tightly to dreams I haven’t dared whisper aloud for fear that they might crumble once exposed to the crushing blade that is reality.
I’ll keep reading.
I’ll keep writing.