I Had An Epiphany: I Was A

The Balls Do Not Make A Writer.

I Am Just Like Everybody Else...because There Is Nobody Like Me In The Whole World.

I Want To Make Money, And I Would Like To Have A Lot Of Money, But I Still Believe That The Only Reason To Write Is That Somehow It Will Make Something Or Somebody Better.

I Started Appreciating And Valuing Different Things. Some Things Just Became Insufferable To Me, And Not Just Literature. I Used To Like Horror Movies And Now I Couldn't Stand Them.

Anything That Might Come Under Arts Should Not Be Subject To The Whims Of The Idiotic Market Because The Market's Stupid, And It Gravitates Toward Simplicity - Towards Essentializing Things So They Can Be Sold.