he says, you dont write anymore.
i says, yes.
he says, this is a great sacrifice.
i say, no. it isn’t. it never was.
he says, we’ve talked before how you’ve squandered your gifts.
and i say, what gifts? i never had any gifts. i was a slighty above average kid in fairly below average neighborhood.
and that’s what it all was. no mystique, no mysticism. i rambled about a few times, strung together a few words, ideas. nothing too complex, nothing just flat out simple. but in the end, that’s all i ever was. slighty above average.