Is there a point? Of course there is, some would say. 3 points. 3 valuable points that everyone looks for and desires.
In trying to keep with the rubrics I lost the interest. In trying to match with what was wanted I lost what I was looking for.
Ultimately, its a manner of character. And the ones that benefit the most are those whom live beyond the system, upon wings of their own devising.
I have lost myself, lost my mind, lost the time and delight in doing things I loved. I looked into fields - work hard, play hard, never lose the spark. I think at some point in life, we all lost our sparks, save for those precious few that inspire me so.
Some people have argued that it doesn't matter why you do it, only that you do it. Such a filthy lie that is. Why do I call it a lie?
That alone, answers the question.
Why do we do all this? Search relentlessly...I know what was missing now. I do not love what I write, I cannot present to the world something I do not love as my own, for love is possessive, and it hurts to tell a filthy lie. But still I endure this pain and plough on, though ever cell in my body screams against the bastard child of my own imagining, against the foul words created in a moment of desperate copulation between joyous imagination and harsh requirements.
All this for the sake of 3 points.
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