wild_zero

it's impossible i think to stop the endless cycle of perpetuating a lie in your head and then confronting the reality, over and over again. when i remember everything, it's always been the same story. the amorphous vision in my head materializes stronger as time passes by, when left isolated and up to my own devices. suddenly, the day comes when the vision is abruptly halted in mid-stanza, and i'm left speechless and retreat back into the dark, waiting for the next glimmer of hope. it seems like everything i take pride in, i amuse myself with, i find joy in, eventually crumbles when i see things for what they are, naked and ruthless crashing up against me with no sympathy, no second chance, no hope.

these little worlds play out in my head, sometimes for five minutes, sometimes for years. i pace around alone and watch them, like one of my favorite movies. sometimes, i find myself saying the lines along with it, because i know them so well and i've seen it a countless number of times.

there's never an ending, happy or otherwise. it just stops and i wait for the next vignette to start, rarely patient, always desperate. it's almost enough to call 'faith' - the idea that the next one will somehow fit reality like a glove. that out of this perfect intersection, the unwritten ending will write itself as i go along with it, hand in hand, and it won't matter how it ends anymore.

i'm tired of let downs and i'm tired of waiting for the writer to put this character through the same shit over and over again. why does my story always get rejected? i guess nobody would care to read it after a few pages if the protagonist finds success; it doesn't interest anybody unless he keeps failing and falling every time he rises up. nobody reads a story about fulfillment. if there ever was such a thing there would be no reason to live - parodoxically, without such a thing, there is no reason to live, either.

so, therefore, short of giving up, what is there to write about? if all love, pride, and joy are just hollow fabrications from the same perpetual lie, then what does one sustain their readers on? i suppose there is nothing more than just the open ending to keep everybody interested. nobody completely wins or loses - it's always grey, always a positive and a negative to every outcome.

i'm far too depressed right now to keep writing about this. all i have ahead of me tonight is a dreamless night and another shot at a pointless, unfinished story tomorrow.