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By OshKosh613

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Little Talks Inspired Piece

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By OshKosh613

My dream has always been to become a film writer, to see my stories come to life on a giant screen. I would write short scripts for plays and movies in my back garden as a child. While my siblings would be busy running around, I, the over weight and unathletic child, would sit in our tree house, putting my little fantasies on to paper.

My parents always tried to get me to join a sports team, loose some weight, and live up to my legendary soccer player of a brother. That didn't work out so well, so they resorted to other methods. Family walks, gym memberships, but my favoite was that I would always have less food on my plate. My mom claimed that my brothers and sister had just "exerted a lot of energy during sports practice" but I knew that she was just watching what I ate because I wouldn't do it myself.

I made it out of that house alive, friendless, and still fat. I moved out as soon as possible, going to college, and majoring in buisness, though, still taking a few writing classes here and there.

I had one English professor that I adored to no end. His lectures inspired me to get up in the morning when I was younger, it's gotten a lot harder now.

"Throughout life, there will be times when you wil feel lost in the pull of what's around you, drowning in the abyss of routine. You have no choice but to walk through your troubled space, though, you do not have to do it alone. Take your passions by the hand, keeping them with you always, for they will be the whispers of creativity keeping you awake within the perpetual boredom of everyday life. Because no matter what truths change, what you truly love should be enough to carry you through."

His voice is what keeps me from going over the edge, being trapped inside that little cubicle. I wonder what he would think of my scripts that are taped to the walls of my bedroom. I know that personally I wouldn't read a word of it if I were him. My writings sound the same as all of the other meaningless shit out in movie theaters now. All the "screams of individuality" sound the same. Though the plots may vary, they will all go down the same path as forgotten stories told on a screen.

I saw my dream slip right from my hands the moment I took an office job instead of handing my screenplay into a movie studio. I was to afraid of what others would think of my passion so I took the safe route. Now all that is left are the papers on my walls and my dreams.

Try to think of what my professor told me, and you'll be a lot happier than I am now. Don't listen to what I have to say, it's just another scream in the crowd of thunderous waves. Though, all of my words and yours will end up in the same place, washed up and long forgotten on shore.

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