Right, I write

Right. All Right. I write, and it's past midnight. Left, the pen, right there. And from my head, nothing comes all right!

Stiff, stuck, stopped and blocked. And then, I'm back to my computer – I am completely locked.

Right, All right. This is not poetry; this is prose. And yet – just yet – I feel the need to express myself freely, properly.

Right, all right. Nothing comes to my mind. Over and over I read different books wanting inspiration and then I break the rules of punctuation and the commas suffer and the periods suffer. And then, no inspiration – no motivation – to write.

But hey, it's ok, right? Over and over, the same words I write – and then, thinking I'm escaping from these rhymes, I do the evolution:

Right. All right. Nothing comes to my mind. And then – just then – I get away from the computer and grab a pen.

As I write, my fragmented thoughts become organized; as I write the same words on a different sheet of paper,  shit happens – then, shit vanishes.

No, not right. In fact, this is completely wrong. You aren't reading this; this text doesn't really exist – but that's how my text is, and published with all the might and courage it shall be!

(P.S: What do you guys do when you feel your writing feels the same all the time? Leave me a comment.)

My life as a writer: biggest fears

You know, usually, when I write, my work is done for a client: I rarely write for myself, about myself.

I wish I knew why.

Wait – I do know why. When I send a client a text to be approved, that text does have my essence in it – but who I am, or my ambitions, and dreams... no, they must not show up. Therefore, the request I'm given is neither fully the voice of my client nor my own voice, as I portray his/her dreams. The final result, thus, is a mix of the essence of my client and of my own.

Writing for a client always makes me shiver: I always get that feeling that I'm not going to make it – even though, more often than not (and, sometimes, after a few revisions – I do make it. But hey, feelings aren't easily tamed, right?

But what wasn't my surprise today when I got an unusual request: submitting a writing sample for future works. This, alone, wasn't unusual, of course: what was unusual is that my client asked me to write in the first person and to convey my own feelings.

This time around, I wasn't shivering: I was downright terrified. Writing a text in the first person that conveys strong emotions? I felt I would be naked, writing about myself. Of course that I didn't really need to write about myself; yet, I decided to overcome my feelings. I decided I *would* write about myself.

Yes. Writing about myself... and evoking my deepest fears; face my "dark mirror." And when I face it, I don't like what I see: my fears, my sins. You might see me clothed, but I see myself naked.

I fear being alone. And, sometimes, I fear the afterlife: what is there after we die? God? The Devil? Nothing? Will I be reborn as an animal – maybe as a cockroach, a bug which I love to kill?

I also fear my how my life will be tomorrow: will I be able to "get a life?" To be happy, and to have more personal freedom? Will I ever overcome my dreadful "dark mirror?"

You see, it turns out this article, too, is for a client. Yes, it is more like me, but I don't usually write about myself. It makes me feel as if I'm exposing myself to you. It makes me feel fragile.

I'm sorry, Mr. Client. I can't be fully myself here either. But I hope I was a bit "like me," as you wish to see this side, and I do hope you like this.

To end my writing: I can only thank you so much, Mr. Client. Not only for the opportunity you are offering me, you know – but because you are giving me an opportunity to be emotional.