Extra Creditz

They say that there are people who are born to be natural writers. Is this really true? Is it really the person inside that speaks to the reader or rather the circumstances around the writer that pulls that inner stomach for more hunger? Is it a natural characteristic or an influence? What if F. Scott Fitzgerald never struggled? Had gone to the wrong school, met the wrong people, became a man other than the renowned author in history? Would he be considered a lost opportunity? Would Basil ever hear his name? Would Gordon ever discover his most elaborate drawing? Would Amory ever find who she is? If Fitzgerald was born a writer, were the ink-shaped lives born with him? Before he could have even see the light of day, could he have created a literary lantern paving the inspiration of generations to come? Would we still talk about him? Could he be analyzed, discussed, and quizzed upon? If he looked within the mirror, would he see a clean cut man? Or would he see those eyes? Would his eyes call out to himself? What legacy, if any, could he leave behind? What would happen to the drunken words that trembled through his veins? Could they have belonged to somebody else, to be discovered in another day, year, century? Could I write this now? Could you still read this in disgust? Could you ever wonder these questions, pondering to no end as to why they exist?
Fact: Fitzgerald was a writer.