I can’t answer that. Because, if I do, I’ll sound like the million other writers who stress-fully make sure the one reading knows how powerful their words are. These words (after repeated confrontation) prove nothing but to be a meagre representation of my moment while writing them. With the disguise of memory dancing at the back of mind.
Your regular talk on a screen by someone else. That’s it.
Now, when I write these words about the powerful pleasantry in writing – I am partially a failure to honesty. The next moment I’ll publish this kindness. And, then another moment I won’t even know how good of a writer I am.
Even worse, I’ll just call myself a good writer.
When I do this, I am forgetting my articles on labelling someone. Someone who’s me is getting labelled as a hypocrite too when I call myself a good writer. Forgive me, reader, but these words are not meant to give you or me the powers of any kind.
Instead, they are meant to remain just as they are. If you accept them just as they are, there’s nothing more vivid to me than this imagination.