Selective Amnesia

I

I am a writer.
And as a writer, I believe in two things.
No.
Not the Truth.
Not the power of words.
That would be too obvious, wouldn’t it?
Wouldn’t it?
As a writer, this is what I believe in.
I am always right.
I don’t have to believe in what I write
Not always.
True
I do have to believe in what I write,
When I write.
For that ring of sincerity.
If not, what I write will not be sold.
Not enough, at-least, to make me money.
But I don’t need to rabidly hold on to every word that I ever put down.
No way.
But what I need to hold on to,
Is that I am always right.
And my premise.
That little circle in which I stand, and am master of.
For if I ever lose sight of my premise
I lose.
Period.
Right.
So, what is my premise?
That’s the first thing I will tell you.
When you stand where I stand. This side of the truth.
Then again, I could be wrong;
About this whole thing, you know; And about what I do have to believe in.
But will that stop me?