The thing with the footprints & fingerprints

Rain has no mercy. We leave more footprints than fingerprints on glass.
I went to a writing workshop yesterday afternoon and it did upset me so badly. We sat there just to write poems the style we were asked to write. After I could not manage writing a third poem (really frustrating as well) I left the room without any words. With the other two poems I made the teacher speechless, maybe it wasn’t the stuff he wanted to heard or just so bad. It’s a pleasant moment when I make people speechless, in particular with a good reason.
Maybe, only maybe, I do have a problem with limitations, limited or non existent passion. That’s the reason why I never want to be a teacher at school.
But what I want to be when I’ve grown up…only half a year before graduation it rises clearly.
Middle of the second week this term, no single poem yet. The trip to Brighton tomorrow just comes in very handy, although I do have a feeling…one of those uncomfortable, visceral feelings.
And then, I hope I am wrong.

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