as if there aren't enough stories about misery.
i started to do some creative writing today. a friend and i are thinking about putting together a collection of short stories or some kind of creative project. i'm excited about it. i hope it doesn't fall through like all my other creative projects.
it's supposed to be about a person much like myself. it's a young man who is living a completely ordinary life but sees the world through the eyes of a completely introverted, skeptical, miserable person. sounds awful i know but its awesome for me. hehehe.
so here's a start:
Sometimes my mind dances with my eyes. I catch glimpses of demons. No, they're not real demons nor do I believe in demons. However, these images are real for the tiny moments in which they appear out of the corner of my eye. What is reality anyhow? The only reality that we can ever know is the one we experience. Of course, there have to be other realities out there, ones that exist outside of our scope of comprehension. Sometimes I wish my skepticism would be run through by an act of God. I think it would be easier to believe in a higher power, a moment and existence greater than my own. Life otherwise, is quite arbitrary. And yet, at the same time, it is completely priceless and compelling. We are the maker of our own wills. We feed our own life with the lies of subjective truths in order to find the will to breathe each day. Meaning is child's play. Living is hell
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