Every day for years, I've carved out moments to write, sometimes just a sentence or two. I am proud of my persistence, a quality I didn't know I had in me.
I also read the creative works of other writers almost daily, and I'm left in awe by their craftsmanship. The rhythm of their sentences and the richness of flavours in their words creep through the cracks of my rational thoughts and awaken something in my soul. Their words don't just resonate; they touch something deep inside that I didn't know existed.
And I wonder if I will ever be able to get there, reach that level of mastery, and acquire the power of touching someone else's soul with my words.
Maybe.
Maybe not.
I don't know.
Maybe one life isn't enough.
I don’t know.
I know it's worth trying.
And that is enough.