sábado, 13 de agosto de 2016


            Writing, writing, writing. It’s just an ability I don’t have. Some people do, some others don’t. As simple as that. I have abilities, of course, everybody does, but writing is not it. Ever since the seventh grade I’ve been writing stupid stories and they get worse every time I read them. I’m a stranger in the world of readable stories, a complete foreigner. My entrance in Letterland should be banned.

            It’s difficult for me to find interesting topics to write about, I’m not a good narrator, I leave too many details out, I’m not descriptive at all. I read books, and it’s interesting too, sometimes, but I just can’t make them as good. I mean, are you still following the plot on this pointless essay? Is not your mind wandering about?

            I’m not interested in writing at all, and even less for people to get to know my “body of work.” I’m only doing it because I’m collaborating with the class. Right now I’m sick, and my mind’s a total blank, so I couldn’t think of a better topic than this one (…).


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