Words course through my body like the very air I breathe, overwhelming my mind and soul in a tidal wave of intensity. They are the heart of my stories, which live so passionately within me that reality cannot compare. Just as the blaring voices of my characters often drown out my thoughts, my outward actions barely distract me from the exhilarating realms of my mind.
My stories blaze with such color and brilliance that I struggle to contain their complexity in the written language. This inability traps the violent swirl of plots and characters within me, leaving me torn between the unhappy yet sublime world of stories and the agonizing calm of real life. The only solution to this curse is to keep writing, and I fear I shall never be free from its glorious clutches.