All I wanted to do in life was to write. Sadly I can’t even come up with a good opening line. A friend of mine once said a writer that writes about writers is doomed to sound boring and fail miserably to capture the average reader’s attention. Maybe it’s true but right now I don’t care. I want to express myself without the rules and constrains of the American way of writing stories. I want to use adjectives liberally, I want to tell a story don’t care about showing it, I want to use the language that comes out of my head, I want to explain situations, I want to comment like an amateur author, I want to go off on imaginative insane tantrums, and I don’t want to care about anything but expressing myself. I can almost see and feel the self righteous failed authors cringing as I rant. I can poke into their heads and see that they’re thinking about how many rules I’ve broken, about how much I suck at writing and why I should forever be banned from creative writing.

Blah blah blah blah… so readers, still there? – Probably not - Have I failed you as a writer so far? - Say yes… I don’t care. - Where am I going with this? - I bet that’s what you’re thinking. - OK so I may have lost a bunch of people with the questions… GOOD… for those that are still with me let me start with some characterization. I’ve always wanted to be a writer. Not because I wanted to be famous but because I wanted to express myself, I wanted to TELL the stories in my… I guess demented head. Since I first picked up a pen I’ve been writing what’s in my head becoming one of those people that writes their dreams, experiences and God knows what else. I should know what I’ve written throughout my life but the truth is sometimes I have no clue.

For God sakes get to the point you terrible horrible utterly boring writer… - I know, I know, I bet some of you are thinking that.- Alright… So now you know I’m a failed disgruntled writer. So now what happened to me… why am I even writing this? Well the answer is simple; I flew away in a dream, that’s what happened. A friend of mine once said to me, you will either be a genius or a lunatic. So far I have one leg in the nuthouse.

It began not too long ago. It was one of those days that you just know shit is going to happen. The bad vibes penetrate your skin and almost shatter your bones. I was alone as usual and for the first time I lost it. I remember perfectly the moment when the dream turned into reality. It was 5:45 am on a dark rainy and windy Sunday morning. The first thing to cross over was the strange color pattern. Slowly the colors turned into figures and for the first time I heard a voice; something similar to the cry of a baby. Then fast piercing riffs from an electric guitar filled the room with noise. The voice started to mature and sounding more like a child; asking questions. Are you lonely? Are you talented? Why are you even trying? The voice kept maturing and soon I could hear more babies cry. The figures were modeling a human figure. This is real you know… the voice said in a perfectly adult voice.

I stand up and the whole room moves around. Like a terrible carnival ride everything was spinning and I hold on to the desk. I could feel the desk getting warmer and in a few seconds one part got chilling cold and the other one burning hot. I let go and fall on my ass. A long haired man grabs my hand and pulls me up. He asks if I’m alright. The color patterns and shapes suddenly start to blend this man with the background making him quickly disappear. I feel the hand of a woman touch my neck and I turn around. She was the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen. I don’t want to sound cliché but she really looked like an angel, plus the wings on her back made me think she was actually an angel. Once again I fall on my ass and the whole place changes. This time I was in a white room, filled with doors and from each door I could hear different voices scream at me. In front of me I had my computer and all I could see in the screen was the word processor.

The white room isn’t that bad… I can’t leave the white room. I’m writing, writing and writing… I guess I’m doing it for a living now… I started writing as soon as I noticed the word processor in the screen. The first line I wrote was: “All I wanted to do in life was write.” I can’t believe how lame that is… I don’t think it’s even grammatically correct… I can still hear all the voices, some better shut the fuck up. I know what you’re thinking… This is crazy. It makes no sense. Why did I ever read this crap? Let me guess… you think I’m insane. Oh but all I wanted to do was write. All I wanted to do is write. All I want to do is write. All I have to do is write. I have to write. I can’t stop writing. Keep writing. Keep writing. Who cares… I care… I care… go die… stop writing… you suck… die… I can hear them all. Let me guess, can you make sense of this? Write about me… read me… put me out of my misery… help…