i wonder how thomas edison felt after he invented the lightbulb. exhilaration, pride, relief, thankfulness..

i wonder if he ever felt scared to try another project. scared that hey, even if he could do it once, doesn't mean he could do it again. scared of being a one-hit wonder.

sometimes, i think, we're more afraid of our talents than what we dont have. what we never had, we can never lose. but what was once our crowning glory can just slip from our grasp.

pen to paper, i think sometimes i'm scared i'll lose my voice that flowed through ink. the part of me that seemed to engage all my attention as alphabets conjoined into words, weaving prose that looked like poetry in certain lights.
-

in a dusty corner of the attic
a kite dangles limply from a hook
muted colours softly fading into the woodwork
it flew just once,
but not again
because
what if it never flew as high as it did before?
-

oosh. not pessimistic, but pensive haha. i think i like writing because lessons we glean from life seem to stick better to paper than they do to our heads haha.