I guess I'm just random. A random girl, a tree in a forest (though I tend to consider myself as a rather nice tree), just another writer. Why do I write ? Question is, why wouldn't I ? It's like water. It's vital. I need to write else I'll end up like some kind of dead fish's corpse on a forsaken beach. I want to be remembered. Is it so unnatural ? Am I just being, as often, narcissistic and painfully scared of oblivion ? I don't want to end up like these unfinished stories of mine, forgotten somewhere in my computer, waiting for me to keep writing them. I need water, yes. But I often need another kind of water not to drown. I write because I'm alive. Let me bow in front of you, brave reader, welcome to my world. I hope you'll enjoy your stay. Welcome to my words.
