I am the earth, the sea, the sky. I am the body, the mind, the soul. I am all and nothing. Simplest put, I am a writer. I am a writer of the heart. I am a writer of the mind. I am a writer of the soul. Whichever one possesses me at a given point, that is the one my pen serves. My interests lie in not only making a mark upon the world, a fragment of memory from which perhaps my name would live on after I vacate this mortal realm, but a mark so deep that it is rather a crevice, a vast hole that blasts through the world to the other side. I learn the rules so I can break them. I learn the language so I can bend it to my will. That is what writing is for. That is what the language is for. And if I prove successful on my path to bend the language to my will, I fear not what the world brings. Rather, I fear what consequences my actions may bring upon the world.