Why did I ever stop? And there it goes again…… The silent whispers between my heart and my head. “It’s not going to be perfect”, what would people say? Amateur!!….. Amateur!!……That’s what he said, that’s what you are. And days go by and slowly… Days go by slowly, scratch that. I did it again.
Trying to be a perfect writer for the criticism of others in a world not carved in black or white but with grey areas. I just wanted to write to get away, to be the hero for myself. I just wanted you to see my world through my words.

But now I’m saddled with the…. hold on, those are not thoughts, neither is that the ticking of the clock. Those are the sounds from the generators  right about 7:01pm Nigerian time. 
No! It can’t be.. “All hell would break loose” that can’t be the next line. Are those crickets? Right.
How do I play with the brishaheuehakla of words drawing you deep like shakespear’s written words on Romeo and juliet. Evoking a desire to read on.
Well but what do I know, I’m just an amateur or am I? Or am I running my own journey to perfection. 

What do you say, is there an amateur in every perfection. What do I know I’m just an amateur.

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