All these things, all these works that I've been doing to earn my monthly dues, is nothing dear to my heart. It is just something that I can do and I am doing it good enough.

But there's those things, the sweet temptations from the other sides that just refuse to unbind me. The allure and glamor of presenting stories, of grabbing the attention of the masses, entertain and influence them - subtly.

I'm restless as my heart is arguing back and forth - the continuous argument between a basic animal rights of safe comfortable life against a mad, unknown, uncontrollable passion for the arts of storytelling.

It is a dream that I would not let go. The heart whispered to me late in the night.

I closed my eyes and let the night swept away the lingering hope - so it won't leave any trace for the morning sun.

Labels: dream, personal

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