At the very end of all, the story begins...

Unwilling to begin from story’s end, it is the only starting point I have left. No one starts to watch a movie from its end, but to rewind the time on the remote and watch the movie from its title to its credits is no longer an option for me. I am already watching the scrolled credits and life gave me no remote to travel back in time. The credits now is all I get.

I’m at the end of a story and I’m left to start something new with what has been imprinted in the credits. Funny to note that throughout the whole movie, only the credits tell the truth: Behind each favorable and developed character stood an actor with a famous name. Behind each scene, a camera man ran the film through different lenses. Behind the script – director’s own wild imagination and final cut.

There was no truth in the movie I’ve lived. I was my own director, my own actress, and I watched every scene through the camera view. I’ve lived out a script and, whilst it’s the end, I might as well just skip and bend all the twists and walk over them. It’s the end. I’ve lived out my ideas, my writing no longer matters, and the truth is now scrolling in the theatres for all to see.

Now I’m opened. I’m now too obvious, too predictable, too candid. Beauty of secrets is no longer in my possession. I’m uncovered. And I don’t like that. The problem of even larger proportions is that this is exactly where I need to start: at the end of everything.

But how?

At the very end of all, the story begins...

theShad0ws

Joined December 2008

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Dec 23

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