I want to write. I can feel the little bubbles of inspiration that has been stymied for the past two years, start to rise to the surface, and form wrinkles in the clear waters that has been my writings for the past couple of years. Going to school and having a teacher that defines good as something only people who have gone to the university can achieve, less alone excellent, has clearly halted my otherwise great lust for words.
I can feel a lot words wanting to come out, stories that needs to be told. Tales of times past, that will show us the real road that is before us. Of the cyclic ways of man, almost forgotten but for a few secluded cults, of the constant call of nature, and of the growing problems that needs to be taken care of. This is our world now, a world that needs attention, a world that we cannot pass on as it is, a world that can be saved, if only we dared to try.
Also I am beginning to dream again. I can't help it, and all this energy is causing me quite some problems, when I try to concentrate on just studying. So I need to write, it needs to come out, and be put to paper.