For one reason or another, I have this belief that the amount of writing a
person is capable of in a lifetime is decided from birth. Assuming that there
is a predetermined set amount of words, then the more you write, the more
that amount will depreciate. That would forecast the eventual loss of your
ability to write. In practical application, let’s say someone wanted to fill up
300 pages of paper with 400 words crammed onto each sheet in one day.
Since there’s no precedent of that ever happening, I may actually be right.
Of course, if I did want to write 120,000 words in one day, the fact that
typing at the speed of one word per second would already take thirty-three
hours would mean I could never do it. But there might be someone out there
who can accomplish the feat, so I can’t be totally sure.
Speaking of things I can’t do, I’ll change the subject to how cats are
nice. They’re cute and soft and they meow. You’re probably wondering
where I’m going with this. I don’t really know myself. Not sure how to
explain it. I’ll be quite happy if you can accept the “it is what it is”
explanation.