And so it was written.
Each letter was carefully placed in structured harmony; thus forming the protecting barrier of cautious serenity, in which only happiness and purposeful creation could be spread. There was none who could attest to the insincerity of the message itself. Fragile glass words sheltered behind what could’ve only been viewed as quite possibly the most emotionally driven passage to ever be relayed to someone. It seemed so simple, and accomplished that by the end of reading through the immaculately crafted screenplay, even I was madly in love with the author for her work.
Much could be said now about what appears wonderful, but is ultimately false. Many of you have perhaps found yourself staring humiliation in the face; a cold torrent of failures fled, that of which was avoidable but unforseen. In a world where all around you seems distraught and untrustworthy, who would’ve figured it to be that whom you hold sacred?
Absolutely, it’s understandable to feel grief over it. I could only call it natural to think that you, like me have the image of that moment stuck in your head; forceful echoes of opportunities lost and dreams shattered because of a slight lapse of wavering caution. So powerful that even the strongest urges to return to reason are cast aside in favor of the warm blanket of precious gratitude. You accept the guilty pleasure, and embrace it as if it were your token of intimate fortitude.
I used to carry with me a much less cynical disposition. That of which was one that enjoyed trivial joys, and preferred the bright spectrum of awareness to the various novelties of frivolous compassion distribution. As those close to me may remark upon; I used to be a much more morally acceptable character. I used to be of the sort sounded the trumpet anytime I felt danger close, or cheered at the minor victories accomplished. I was the one who gave gracious attention to those around me because I knew it was important to consider all possibilities and viewpoints. I trusted whoever crossed my path because I viewed the human race as a species that generally wanted what was best for everyone, and hoped for prosperity as aimlessly as I did. Now that I’ve come to understand that in a black and white rainbow, there’s a hell of a lot of gray in between. There is no human being too trustworthy to not watch carefully, no battle that should be entered without a firm grasp of the repercussions therein.
One must forgive my analogies, as they could only seem more brutal and frank than I intend to endow the situation with. In retrospect now, I’ve seen myself as only the master could see their dog. The faithful, and forgiving lap-terrier that day by day tirelessly follows their friend around until one day, master dies. With that comes the unexpected, and undeserved sense of abandonment and desertion. I then dwell on master’s final metaphorical resting spot until the time comes, where I slowly starve myself to death. I can only embrace this reality that I’ve created for myself, as I have become my own antagonist and mentor in this trustless, and lustless purgatory in which I merely muse and draw useless conclusions to rant to others about. I have become the ultimate over-thinker in a world where no one remembers that step one entails that there is another step immediately following it.
Perhaps one can empathize with the idea that it’s not just me experiencing this either. There are plenty of others like myself, who are caught in their own tale of paradise lost, attempting to figure out what exactly got you to this spot, and why it feels as though you’ve been forsaken by your own sky. Meticulous delusions of desperation parade ceaselessly, as you lose sleep and sanity over irrelevant fantasies that even you don’t believe in, and your stuck once more in treachery, right where you remember leaving off before you became an optimist.
Of what you could only deem a futile tirade of tearful truths, I’ve placed myself in the wings of Lucifer, and for whatever misguided reason I’m now pacing the territory I now possess, ready to escape my ever-growing prison of fruitless fervor.
– O-Yama (formerly known as Jake)