a story for you
Ξ May 29th, 2009 | → 0 Comments | ∇ 1 |
This is life.
Life is painful. it just is. theres no way to fix that. the sky is blue, birds fly, fish swim, and life is painful. it is empty, hollow, and lonely. this is not up for argument, simply fact. we are lost in the size of its entirety and confounded by the intricacies of the most trivial details.
So many people spend their lives trying to rationalize the idea that life is fairy tales and happy endings. that the pain and suffering are avoidable. they trick themselves into being happy. instead of facing the truth, they keep on the facade that everything will be ok. a personal favorite of mine being small talk. everyone makes it, some learn to master it, but every single time someone does, it starts with the same question.
“Hey Chris, how are you?”
simple enough. harmless enough. nothing is implied, and the only thing ever expected back is some form of “oh not too bad”, followed quickly by “and you?” not too bad? that doesnt sound good. and really? not too bad? you’re stressed out about money and bills and work and friends and your social life and… not too bad? “if you tell a lie often enough, and keep repeating it, people will belive you” a quote coincidentally attributed to multiple men each of whom truly understood what they were saying and that still holds true today. if we keep saying “not too bad” then maybe it actually wont be so bad. there is a certain satisfaction in saying exactly that. sometime we even brag or embelish to make it seem like we actually are constantly happy with new and exciting adventures everyday.
Michael knew better. you see, he’d always known better. life was painful. while others set goals, he could see failure before it happened. his day was mundane and boring. blah blah blah, he knew he was living a cliche. and the last thing he ever thought he’d write about was himself. dont be emo, he say to himself. dont mope, its unattractive. assertiveness is sexy! he’d start countless posts with a such good intention, and then realize he was just being whiney and stop. he’d turn the computer off and crawl into bed defeated at the foresight of his failure. even now, as he writes this very moment locked away in his room, he fears he’ll never publish the post he’s writing. “it wanders. its wordy. ive strayed from my main idea. what was my main idea? why do i have to have a main idea? why do i have to follow fucking rules,” he’d say to himself. he’d get frustrated. his words still locked in his heart and head, he go to bed silent repeating his feeling over and over only with color and music and light and sound and touch..but never words. he tried so hard to show people the beauty in life that he saw. to show that even in the pain, you can be happy. but no one could see life his way though. the images held different meanings. the sounds of home werent the same. not everyone knows the lyrics to the songs he sings. how much he wished he could share it with someone. only in his words could he truly be read and understood and unoppressed. only in the words he never let himself say.
But tonight, tonight was different. he was writing for a reason. he is a man on a mission. he has a story to tell. so instead of saving what he wrote and sending it into the pile of amassing unfinished stories and thoughts, he’d try something new. he’d break the rules. he’d tell you the story of his life. “Tonight will be the epilogue. tomorrow,” he says, “page one…”