I'd admit that I have the notion that I am capable of writing well enough.
While it is quite impossible for me to think of myself otherwise, due to an inflated and irreplaceable ego and all, I try my best to appear as innocuous as possible.
My friends commonly associate me with writing well. A good command of the English language. Writer in the making.
Truth is, I don't believe for a moment that I am able to fulfill their expectations. Oh I might have some otherworldly fantasies myself, in a parallel but non-existent universe, but that don't make any of it true.
It terrifries me that anything I write is up to the scrutiny of my peers. It shouldn't. I'm well past the age where I still care, alas I do. Yet, at the same time, I seek praise from them, not out loud, but it's there, a lingering feeling of unbridled arrogance.
Can anyone be rid of their ego? The ones who proudly say they are the master of their egos, are merely slave to that of their arrogance. No matter where we are in life, our ego would be still ever present. It's just good old human nature.
Thought we might never be rid of it in our lifetime, it is an eternal struggle to seek control over our egos. And as we grow older, our finesse grows as well, to the point of deluding ourselves that we've outgrown that immature little bitch. But that isn't always the case.
I am still thinking about writing. Most of the time.
