two-hundred and fifty

"...at least 250 words."

And what would I say that would account for more than two-hundred and fifty words?

Maybe I could help weave dreams, specially the dreams of children that grown-ups would usually dismiss as just mere fantasies; fluff. I wish to teach them to dream as well—or for those who have forgotten, the art of dreaming—like the way many that have gone ahead of me did, through their works and tomes.

I would tell my story—and that of a thousand others, whose voices couldn't be heard because of the incessant babble by the so-called high-and-mighty. I would lend my words to the speechless, I will be their voice.

After all, I am a writer; there is no writer that speaks alone, and only for his/her own thoughts. Every writer was, is, and will be influenced by others; and every work will cause a change in someone’s life, no matter how minute. As that saying goes, “No man is an island”—same with writing; no work is devoid of any influence from other works or real-life experiences with other people.

Like the best advice that I ever received from a writer:

“Sumulat Magbasa Sumulat Mabuhay Sumulat.”

Write, read, write, live, write.

Then again, I always could write about him. Yet even if I wrote a million essays about him, it still wouldn't be enough to explain why I love him; he whose words matter most to me, he who helped me to smile and live again.