So I woke up this morning, doing my thing and just being me and suddenly it came to me. I should write something. I mean everyone writes. My friends, classmates, room mates and several others and they are surprisingly good at it. Actually they say to me, “why don’t you write? You read so much and we’re sure you could whip up something really nice if you tried”. So it’s decided. I’m gonna write because everyone writes and since I’m pretty good at whatever it is I set my mind to do, I’m sure I’m gonna ace and master the act of writing. As sudden as the idea came to me to write though, I’m faced with a dilemma. What exactly should I write about? Should I write about my past? My present? Or even the unforeseen future? Should I write about my achievements as few as I think they are yet? Or about my fears. God knows I could make a book series of those as they just seem too many. Then I thought to myself, this is too much of a hassle. Why do I have to write? Why do I have to do what everyone does? Why can’t I be different? Why can’t I simply do what I love to do, which is reading! Well then, I’m not gonna write! I have lots of respect for those who write, but I’ll read instead so call me reader. I’ll edit people’s work so call me an editor. I’ll write sometimes too, maybe, if I have the urge to because sometimes you just have to pen your thoughts down. But I’m no writer so do not call me a writer.