Today I ask the world: Is today different?
The answer? I am beyond answering. It is impossible to describe the thoughts of age through English words, or any words. It is an odd feeling, I can say that. I've never really thought about age in this way before. As though it is limited and birthday's shall soon be gone. Perhaps it's just because I'm realising that I'm actually growing up, and this is it.
No more brooding, now is a time for celebration, I think? Would I be predictable if I said I had stopped writing my Epic novel? Probably. That's a stupid question. I don't know, I just don't find it imaginative enough. If I'm writing something I don't want it to only reflect my depressing thoughts on life and death and judgement. I want it to entertain and teach and inspire. I really don't think my epic novel was going down that direction. I admit the summary I wrote for it did have that kind of twang I was searching for, but if I compare it to similar works it lacks something. Right now I am re-reading the Harry Potter Series and the writing (especially in the first one) is so catchy and addictive. I need to produce something fun like J.K. Rowling has, or something beautiful like Meg Rosoff. I need to accomplish this to actually write a book.
My Opinion. Will probably fail.
Point of this rant is that yesterday was my birthday (although Blogger will probably say it still is, what with time differences and all) and I loved it.
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