Two things: Living a fulfilling life, then write about it.
Creating make-beliefs, then write it down.
Well, not two things, as it turns out.
Imagining characters, observe people around me, borrow their traits, then write them all down.
Reading the paper everyday, finding a pattern, then digest them all through writing.
Obviously, it’s writing, the thing I never get tired of doing. Duh. I get tired of reading at some point, but never writing, as long as the dictionary and thesaurus are by my side (or in open tabs).
I was just riding my bike around the corner when I saw the pretty pearl necklace on display. The little pearls behind the glass window so iridescent, they shone through like little diamonds dancing in a night sky. I almost heard glass breaking through the more I glued my nose on the window, so I thought perhaps if I stop by everyday, the glass will shatter every so often that one day the pearls shall breakaway in the skies flying free like a bird.
I became obsessed about it. I have my dinner nearby the corner street every night, watching over it with an eagle eye. Still, I know the six-digit price I have to pay in order to stop this. In this dark place I am in my life, these pearls became my precious gem. Then I began to feel that stiff coldness in the air.
It’s simple, really. They changed the pearl necklace into real diamonds. Now I feel the coldness in my heart, a hollow heart that I can no longer follow.
It’s barely there, you see; so elusive, so obscure – just like the day you waved goodbye to me forever, and all the days I’ve been through since then without you, the light of my life.