Apparently believing the whole world on your shoulders is entirely different from realizing that same fact. I’m a writer; salvation lies within the keystrokes, but woe; there to lies damnation. “Every one of my books had killed me a little more.” - Norman Mailer. Why would you aspire to greatness in a thing, in the bending of words, all the while knowing it to be your undoing? Love I suppose. It does tend to make the insanest notions, all the more sane. “I am a man brimming, whose own relief of burden lies solely within the fathoms of his own spring. Maddening it is to be the fool who wallows ill, while cure waits beyond all reach; lovingly between fingers.” - Akil N. De Berry… Each word a stone, each completion a hill? Sisyphus you had it easy my friend! Well back to writing.