Building Blocks

I am starting to figure out what my problem is, a problem which is stopping me to achieve something that has always been a dear goal. I see the buildings blocks later.

One moment there is a new thought in my head and I instantly think of the ending, yes, hurry is my problem. I am effervescent, fizzy. I don't write to make sense, I write to create the desired ending, a clear result of impatience. I study to become someone with the knowledge. With each step, I need to accomplish something important, something worth mentioning. I don't want to blame anyone for this, but still a part of my bringing up comes to mind. So much protection has spoiled me like this story of a poet in 'Life is Elsewhere'. I am not identifying with the character completely but yes I was to become my parents dream once, a product of their favorite destiny.

Habit of capturing the moment and then destroying it suddenly, is the only reason I wanna linger, linger more in present to relish it before it perishes. I want to build something from the foundation. I understand imagining the end is absolute necessity in order to attain a certain direction, but for me it doesn't favor. I must be, before I am not.