T. S. Eliot wrote that.
Maybe in the future I will write something meaningful as well.
Once, I wrote a short essay that made people cry; that’s something. It talked about my dad. Two pages about my dad and about how he reacted when I told him a friend of mine died, and how I suddenly realized I had been expecting too much of him; that he was just a normal, vulnerable, confused person who found himself in a situation where he had to console someone who was expecting him to cure his sadness. Something like that. You can find it here. I was a better writer then.