What have I been doing?
Jack.
Cracking my skull against the walls in the hopes that something would come seeping out.
Becoming overwhelmed.
Being defeated.
Life and the complexities that lie within it.
Personal ambition overshadowed by reality.
I get the feeling that I am not the person who was meant to write/draw this damn thing.
I get the feeling that some curse was placed on me to hold my dreams just out of reach.
I feel like something is missing. One little thing that would pull this all together.
I don't like feeling this way. I sit with my hands lying limply in my lap. I imagine the ruby beads pooling beneath me as I slowly drift off to sleep.
I jolt awake. It was only imagined as I lack conviction. I lack the strength.
I hate feeling that way. I bury those thoughts fearing that connecting with them any further would make dreams come true.
Damn you Venge.
Damn you Kara.
Damn me.
I could draw picture after picture of the cast of characters for this story. I can imagine great and interesting stories to involve them in. I can even see where it will all lead.
I cannot tell a story. Even reciting stories from my own past fail in the realms of entertainment. I state facts. I am distant from the emotions experienced at the time. I do not feel. I thought I knew what made others sad, afraid, excited. I am told that I am wrong.
I think they were lying. Maybe if not to me, then to themselves. I hate liers. I curse the first lier to an eternity of never knowing what is real.
And, yet, here I am. Obsessing over the ability to tell a fictional tale of loss and redemption... And I doubt if I ever had anything actually taken from me... I doubt if I can even be redeemed.
I curse the person who made me doubt.
They probably explained it as being realistic.
Never pollute another with your shortcomings.
Imagine the feats our children could achieve if they had no limits.
Maybe then they will never know what it means to chase a dream, for they will know the elation of what it means to catch a dream.
Jack.
Cracking my skull against the walls in the hopes that something would come seeping out.
Becoming overwhelmed.
Being defeated.
Life and the complexities that lie within it.
Personal ambition overshadowed by reality.
I get the feeling that I am not the person who was meant to write/draw this damn thing.
I get the feeling that some curse was placed on me to hold my dreams just out of reach.
I feel like something is missing. One little thing that would pull this all together.
I don't like feeling this way. I sit with my hands lying limply in my lap. I imagine the ruby beads pooling beneath me as I slowly drift off to sleep.
I jolt awake. It was only imagined as I lack conviction. I lack the strength.
I hate feeling that way. I bury those thoughts fearing that connecting with them any further would make dreams come true.
Damn you Venge.
Damn you Kara.
Damn me.
I could draw picture after picture of the cast of characters for this story. I can imagine great and interesting stories to involve them in. I can even see where it will all lead.
I cannot tell a story. Even reciting stories from my own past fail in the realms of entertainment. I state facts. I am distant from the emotions experienced at the time. I do not feel. I thought I knew what made others sad, afraid, excited. I am told that I am wrong.
I think they were lying. Maybe if not to me, then to themselves. I hate liers. I curse the first lier to an eternity of never knowing what is real.
And, yet, here I am. Obsessing over the ability to tell a fictional tale of loss and redemption... And I doubt if I ever had anything actually taken from me... I doubt if I can even be redeemed.
I curse the person who made me doubt.
They probably explained it as being realistic.
Never pollute another with your shortcomings.
Imagine the feats our children could achieve if they had no limits.
Maybe then they will never know what it means to chase a dream, for they will know the elation of what it means to catch a dream.
