Writing, is it my calling?

I've been insufferably plagued by these insistent urges to write about this novel I've been outlining and planning inside my head for quite a while. (FINE, it has had a few years of planning...but not really continuous planning, more like periodic planning.)

This image/words/thoughts/whatnot(I can't really justifiably define it, whatever it is, because it happens inside my cluttered head.) can't get out of my head.

Striking, bright yellow eyes stared back at me from the corner of my bed. Another pair of eyes appeared right next to them, except these ones were constantly changing color. They conspicuously stood out against the stark darkness of my room. Yet, instead of being downright frightened and alarmed had I been any other person but me, I did nothing at all and just stared right back, waiting for the inevitable.

"It's time" the owner of the yellow eyes said.

It's a scene from the story/novel/trash that is being constructed inside the workroom called my brain. And obviously, there's a lot more story behind than just it...I just can't...ugh...I don't know what's wrong with me. (Here's a little tidbit--it's closely related to our religion, except it's fantasy and sci-fi and about the end of the world...things like that, the second coming of Christ. And the three people which are portrayed in the previously presented scene is the central focus of the story. They're kind of like reincarnations of Mary, Joseph and an extra character, although they AREN'T Joseph and Mary, just the ones who get their roles. Something like that. Oh, this story has been brewing inside my brain for ages.)

Anyhow, I had wanted to write about something else here, previously, but I'll have to postpone it again because I if I start writing about it (It being colonial mentality in the Philippines.) then I'd end up making a very boring, long-winded discussion/debate/rant entry. SO, that's for another time. :)