yesterday, i wrote a poem. and i was almost teary-eyed, my tear glands threatening to explode with a gush with every line i wrote.
it's no easy thing to write. sure, some will envy you and some will praise you, but at the end of the day, it's always the writer who suffers, who rebels against the world simply because the writer wrote what he/she believed was worth writing for.
but i need to breathe. i write to breathe.