A Living Story

I am stuck between a rock and a very hard place. It's a lose - lose situation, so why don't I try to lose with a bang? Half of the time with this...I don't even know what I am thinking, so I can't judge others when they give their rash opinions, can I? Sometimes I am those rash opinions, but why do I constantly persist to defend what had once killed me? As if it somehow gives me strength now. I can't believe how such a mixture of emotions can all be so prominent at one time. I am a complete bundle of feeling, but no comprehension. When I try to make sense of it, I get more confused. My heart and my mind suffocate each other because they are polar opposites. I guess that's what makes me such an interesting person. I guess that's why I am a perfectionist, never satisfied...because I can't even agree with myself. My mind is telling my heart that I'm crazy. My heart is telling my mind that I am stubborn and arrogant. But somehow, I turn out to be an arrogant, stubborn crazy person. I mesh into one. Just like you.

Have you ever went through something and just had absolutely no words or thoughts or idea in the world how to express it? It's as if the event and the feeling itself was supernatural, and unworthy for the worlds possession, because there is simply no way to describe it. Something so unbelievable that if it were to be objectively explained, people would either not have a clue what you were talking about, or they would look at you like you are a alien. But regardless of how unexplainable...it still happened. However unimaginable, still occurred. I still can't wrap my head around it. How I can even stand it? The sight, sound and smell...the touch...so addicting but I fight. I fight myself so I have no problem fighting you. It's the same damn thing, isn't it? And all the little things seem to wrap back around at me. The little things should very well tear me apart, but they don't. It's like having surgery. I am completely numb. I feel nothing but the slight tugging discomfort. But I know that regardless of how I am feeling at the present moment, inside, I am being torn to shreds. I can handle this. The connection of how you can breakdown in one minute, and we'll be laughing the next is just unreal. I feel that it is too powerful for even us to understand. But this isn't my story. Not anymore. My story ended a while ago. This is a living story. This is a living story that isn't finished yet. A story that makes me feel like the last two years for me were a simple scratch & sponge-bob-band-aid. This is way beyond me. This is bigger than me, bigger than you, and bigger than all other players in this game. This is life-changing.

This story is bigger than life. And though the least likely, and in some instances the least motivated for this particular story, I am by far the most qualified and the most worthy to endure. I will write this story...and not for benefit of any man, but simply because the world needs to hear it. Though it is not my story to tell, but it is my duty as an artist to capture it. And though indefinitely painful and excruciatingly uncomfortable, it is beautiful. A beauty like this will not simply die out, at least, not by my hands. May God help us all.