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Oh my. I want to write so bad, I could feel my mind ticking for every moment that passes.

My fingers itched to slam down my thoughts onto that keyboard, to hear the beautiful clicking and tapping of the keys.

I couldn’t wait to share with the world, my ideas, my inspiration and my eureka moments. I. just. could. not. wait.

Therefore, as if I have an idea that could change the current paradigm of the world, I began to type.

But who am I kidding?

I ain’t Charles Darwin with years of knowledge, scientific research and adventures to back up his theory.

I ain’t Plato with philosophical ideas and stories that could wreck havoc in the minds of 20-year-olds today.

I ain’t George R.R. Martin with a creative mind that can build worlds that beautify the minds of readers.

I’m just a blogger, a passionate wannabe writer, a creative-in-progress.

Why would anyone want to listen to my ideas, my thoughts, my perspective for I have no credentials nor a reputable reputation?

I guess, I just love the feeling of typing, of sharing, of clearing my mind of the daily baggage of ideas and creativity. It does not matter if no one reads it. It truly doesn’t matter.

I write because ultimately, it is for the past me, the current me and the future me.

Maybe one day I’ll be good enough move up a level, to step out of the blogosphere and into real writing. Maybe.

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