A warning to my friends and family…

I’ve come to a certain realization about my personal self… about how I may currently hold my very own devastation. At this point, I have already confused most, if not all, of you.

So, let me explain…

I have hidden my true self for some time now, though, many of you may know the real me. I guess I should clarify, it is not that I’ve hidden myself, it is just that only on rare occasions am I driven to let loose that which grows deep within my heart and mind and deep within my soul. Again, I am sorry, for the truth of many issues currently crossing my mind will be answered only for those eager to delve in such an obvious disaster… or to some, a disappointment.

Have I confused you further?

How dastardly of me…

Well, first I’d like to contemplate my visions pertaining to life and death. I will have to say my knowledge on both topics seem to me, non-existent… Now, one might be thinking, ‘Are you not alive? How do you not know living?’ But ask yourselves what living really is… Some of you may not quite realize that “living” in the sense of me, with retrospect to assuming I know life just because my body and mind act and react, is similar to that of a cloud, floating, silently across the largest sky. A … cloud is certainly not ‘living’, but it can get angry and strike down on us while wearing its darkened cloak. It can cry… in a sense… or make a shape to crack a smile and cause a tiny bit of laughter.

But what happens to the clouds when the air flow is astray? They disappear without the slightest wave, but nothing cares. One cannot hug a cloud or kiss it. You can’t give it either love or pain, or even happiness. Even with the simplest touch it slips so easily through your fingers.

Life involves such love, pain, and happiness. And through complete misery even a cloud can have a sunny day or a rainy one.

But I am not a cloud… and anyone who feels as I do would understand the torment and tribulations from feeling like one…

When someone comes along and grabs you… slipping through their fingers is not the greatest feeling. I’ve reached the ceiling of such sensitivity.

Beginning to understand now?

So, what is life to me? It’s a tangible cloud with a heart and a soul… or for those less inclined… don’t be thick –headed and perceive this cloud to be a simple collection of water and ice with an organ and its own spirit. A cloud is now a personification for my current purpose. This new cloud now knows and has felt all aspects of what it means to live, not just the fore mentioned few. It is now, so full that it no longer resembles its previous state and everyone heeds notice to how it has changed, though they may not truly notice.

So, it’s this that I need, right now. This transformation from dust to life has been on my mind, but in an alternate context. I have wanted to taste it, smell it… to feel it for at least as far back as the fifth grade. Is that shocking?! It isn’t to me. Between then and now has been nearly half of my life. Yet I have survived for so long as nothing, where nothing represents a feeling not a perception.

But I have known and do know exactly what can give me my life (please do not unveil a solution with God and his plan, but do not misunderstand. My faith is of no question of character). I know exactly what can teach me how to really breathe… to eat… I can feel it without even having it, but I do not believe I know how to obtain it…

I may think I know…

It’s like when you see someone… anyone… in need of help and you, a random source of strength, come along and help that person. Afterwords you smile amongst yourself because the act of helping may have a place in your heart.

But then, what if I told you I could care less about those that have died. The dead don’t need care… it’s those that sob because of the dead that need it. Do not get me wrong, there are certain cases of death that may give even me a heavy heart. These cases, of course, would be of a strong connection between my sought state and my current one. He… or she… who has helped or given me true life surely would strip it from me… if they were to leave.

But for those at my current state, it is the prospect of death which may give one their final sigh… their final pain… because in that sense, there’s not much left for them to lose because all finales seem to be appetizing. Except, for someone like me, they may feel like a disappointment if their death would cause the smallest tear to trickle down from the depths of anyone’s heart. And someone like me hates to disappoint and cares too much about what others think about them.

Sorry… let me revert back to the true topic. I had been speaking about knowing exactly what can… I guess I will say… heal me, so that I may willingly and readily take part in things that are held dear to the majority of the human race. But… the realization I have come to know… the epiphany of this day is that… I love thinking of and wanting such improbabilities, that I still act as the twin of a sad collection of water and ice. It’s been a part of me for so long that I’m used to it and love it:* the short bursts of happiness that will fade away like a ring of fire in the snow*. It’s like I have been conditioned to walk backwards when the finish line is at the tip of my toe. The fear of tripping is the cause of that line. Thus, with every passing day, I dig a deeper, steeper hole.

So, what was the point of this letter then? Why did I write so much just to realize an epic failure? The answer is certainly simple for some, but undoubtedly difficult for others. Yet, I am sorry that I must say that you’ll have to find it for yourself. Think about it… think about the condition you’re in.