He opened the cover, turned few of the pages and bit thoughtfully on the end of his pen.
As the ones gone before him, down the road of greatness, he would join in their ranks and make it.
He would be the one. The greatest of his time. Remembered - and loved - by thousands!
His mind wandered. Thin, silvery threads of his imagination spun pictures in his mind. He lifted his pen...
The inkspot grew - first slow, then faster - as the tip of his pen dug into the pages of the book.
Filled with frustration, he burned the book. Broke the pen. Turned his back to the world he once loved.
Once longed for - one time loved - always looked upon with regret. A life of lost dreams is not a life at all.
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