The only thing that’s real

Most of this month’s blogs have been trashed or put aside. So I looked up at the devil in front of me; the same devil that inspired me to write The Archer’s Crisis. That was how guilt blossomed into an idea involving precognition and archery. I used to be good with ideas and I’ve always had so much fun connecting them with each other. In between I would embed my own feelings into my protagonist’s heart and have him or her deal with them in silence.

People cannot understand each other’s pain.

All the adverse outcomes remain on paper within the frameworks of fiction, where endurance is transformative. You stretch beyond reality to gain the fulfillment that you are not granted outside your head. Using this opportunity so you don’t get crushed under the weight of reality and the walking mass out there – this is how I’ve always worked.

This is a natural thing to do, aren’t I right? Some people need fiction more than anyone. Could you ever resent this person? This person, who has been trying all her life to belong and express herself, and then ended up not giving a shit, but again found reasons why she should try again and it ended all the same.

In my entire life I’ve been giving in too often. The mass seemed like a place to go. But it didn’t work at the age of 8, didn’t work at 11, didn’t work at 17, didn’t work at 21, and…No one can say I have not tried.

But no one ever understood.

I have never been so exhausted in my life and I don’t know what it is that I am trying to do anymore.

 

All I see now is self-neglect.

I look down the well and see myself. The abyss gazes back at me with all the inner faculties that I’ve been ignoring. Routine and repetition and the obligation to utter meaningless words that die in mumbles.

You just want to remain silent, that’s all.

There’s more accuracy and detail on paper and always has been. Spoken words do not always have a nice ring to your feelings; moreover, there is a high risk of dissonance that does not correspond with your sentiments, either.

 

So this took me my whole life to realize.

I shall not try again.

 

Since the start of this website (2009) there has not been one month with only one blog entry. Now there is. It’s time to do something about it before the devil on the wall tears a bigger hole with that needle, before the typewriter is beyond repair, before I decide to sleep.

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