Writer

There is a certain frenzied madness that takes over my brain in the late hours of the night when the only respite for insomnia is to purge the cause out of your system. But how do you stop something that is so virulent that it has become an essential part of you? I revel in this insanity that holds my thoughts in a vice-like grip, squeezes them until they ooze out in a congealed bastardization of the mania that runs rampant in me.
If I do not create I will implode, it cannot be contained within because it is a natural abnormality that transcends the shell it resides in. Writer, writing, words. I grit my teeth and the pressure pounds through my temples and resonates with a compelling conviction. Suppressing it is a disaster, try as I may. I revel in it, welcome it even. Because it is I and I am it.

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