It has
been a while since I wrote my first short story, my first word. I remember the
time I say, dad I made a story you should read this. I also regret that time
when I start to write poem. I feel so dumb, so low. I broke my heart, I broke
others, I play nice and then I dump things I shouldn’t have. That is what I did
with being a young small self poet. The time when I write my first novel, it
was not finished. So did the next two novels I tried to write. Three times, not
finished. I start blogging, when I thought it was so easy and no one is reading
my blog. I never really want to publish anything from here. I just have so many
thoughts that I thought it was brilliant. Well, the truth is, nothing brilliant
ever came from me. Then I was amazed by this UWRF event. It took a major hit at
me. I’m still so young and greatly have an amazing opportunity that not every
young man in my city go to an event like this. Now, I’m an intern with a chance
of a real job in a few weeks. Not even graduated from any university. I should’ve
been proud. I’m not. I think I’m not ready. I can’t deal with this now. All I
know, I’m really in a slow mood and I hope a new intern would come by and help
me. I’m afraid of being alone the most. That is a real thing.
