Dyslexic ink smudges on a Page
I have never been strong with a pen, but it surpasses a sword, and words on a page carve our history shaping people into memory’s.
I wish I could use this power, the gift of literature is humanity’s biggest freedom but my head bounds me to only my movements and the words I speak.
Over one month in and I have pushed my boundaries and furthered my own horizons, for I am a dreamer.
I was once told their are two types of dreamers, ones who lurk through the mist a keep it suppressed to a dream, and others who act and seek for the reality, I like to feel I am the second of the two, over this past months my visual intake has almost destroyed me, for weeks I lost simple comprehension in the written English language, which is a nightmare to those who don’t understand
But it was my toll, I have climbed mountains, swam through caves, made bonds and heard stories I will never forget, the need to adapt has been my biggest skill.
I wish I could mould my adventures in to print like most can, my text would never give it justice, just like a photo of a sunset or a drunken I love you.
This will be my first smudge