(no subject)

My grandfather is dying. He is 82 years old. He is a world famous poet. He is one of the greatest influences in my life and in the lives of many people before me. He is the man who would put me on his scooter and drive me to the sweet shop every day if I wanted to. He was the one with rows and rows of books in his house, where I got my illustrated version of the original Sinbad adventures, rhyme for rhyme and some of the books that shaped my life.

He told me today, "I wish I could write like you"

There is a part of me that rebelled against that, against the complete and utter goodwill of this man who has given me everything without question. But if I don't have faith in myself, what could I possibly achieve?

I am going to lose him. I know that. I know that him living in pain is not something I want. But right now, all I feel is words in my mouth and I'm choking on it.