It feels like a fuel-tank that seems to constantly need to be refilled, time and again. And that is, and always will be, absolutely fine by me. I always did whatever it takes to get to the right feeling of word-surge in my mind. And, IN MY MIND, I do think that I might perhaps have already written some of my best stuff. And honestly that would probably be absolutely good enough for me, except for the tiny fact that… there is no way in a million years I can stop it now. There are lines and sentences and verses, etc. that, of their own standing, really are rather rhythmically beautiful for their utter descriptive and rhythmic purpose of worth. I do get that. Of course you do, you have to. After writing so much for the last, hmm… decade, I think I have done an incredible job in honing a particular and personalised style of scribbles. I will be proud one day, I am fairly sure of that. However. I just think that maybe the word which needs used isn’t actually that. “Pride”. Maybe it is more-so something of a serious mixing together of feelings and emotion on the creator’s part. And the word that might just work better for me is… hmm… Nah! It is pride you are looking for.