what is it that always haunts me at times of distress, like little pin-pricks all over your glowing skin? I don't know the answer, perhaps I never will. Yes, not to be under the shadow of great minds can make you a little shaky, especially if you are a loser, more so if you remain the same. What is greatness, but a word full of pompous intentions! People think otherwise, though. They nurture their intent, keep it warm and feed it with their ideas and lo! What happened to be a word even just a little while ago, has become something like a palpable piece of make-believe! Ideas are dangerous, they breed what we do not ever intend to feel.

If not for dispersing ideas with liberal ease, why do I keep scribbling on like this? I often ask myself. After a casual fling of orgulous introspection, I arrived at a simple solution.

I write. Because, I just might.