I have a writers soul. Sometimes these magnificent words hit me, and I feel like I'm itching inside my veins until I write them down. People cannot become immortal, so I crave to reach immortality by writing down at least one memorable thing to be devoured by a future generation. I suppose it is a bit vain to want to mark my place in this world in a profound way, but what I wouldn't give to one day after I am gone be held in as high esteem as are such brilliant artists and philosophers as Aristotle, Galileo, Poe, Shakespeare, Hawthorne, and so on... That is my dream, but when someone asks, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" what do I tell them? I could not forthright say that I wish to devote my future and the rest of my days to being remembered when I'm gone any more than I could forthright say that I wish to be the most often pondered writer of my generation. It is illogical and beyond reason to press yourself for a cause that you will never reap the benefits of. However, I cannot help but long to know that I will be remembered. I cannot help but long to be able to reach out to millions by the stroke of a key or the whisper of a pencil. I may be off my rocker for it, but my utmost interest is the acquiring of knowledge. I get more joy out of a new enigma to solve than any recreational activity one could come up with.Yes, admitedly, I am quite the odd youth, but I wouldn't have me any other way.
conceptually_concrete · Fri Dec 12, 2008 @ 01:11am · 0 Comments |