I've always wanted to write a book. But the problem is that that's all I've ever had. The desire to write a book. It's not as though I have any idea what this book will be about. Or have any good ideas at all. But yet I feel all the time that it's in there. I even signed up for NaNoWriMo. You write 50000 pages in one month. It's supposed to help you kickstart writing a novel. Or something. But I just couldn't even bring myself to start.

I mean, the only thing I know anything about is me. I haven't been anywhere, I haven't done anything. Maybe I never will. That sounds more dark than I feel about it. Anyway, I have certain feelings about people who are not famous writing memoirs. Maybe that's wrong, but as arrogant as I am, why would I write my own story? Especially when there is so little of it that I can remember well.

So if I wrote fiction, then I'd be writing fluff. I don't know how to write the kind of fiction that I actually would want to read.

When I was much younger I used to start writing these books all the time. I filled up 3 subject notebooks with stories. I used to subject my dear, patient, wonderful friend Kalpana with hours of reading them to her over the phone. Why on earth she would put up with that who knows? I have searched for her on Facebook, but haven't found her yet. Anyways, she was remarkable and really probably the opening chapter in me only being able to be friends with people whom I felt adored me. But, that's perhaps another topic. And we grew apart as people tend to do when they have a narcissist in their lives from whom they want to escape.

ANYWAYS!

The books. I don't even remember what they were about. And why I didn't keep them? So anyway it's there. The book. The idea in my head. The idea that I'm supposed to write one. And that maybe someone would read it.