The Reason Why.
The Reason Why.
This isn't a fairy tale. This isn't a work of fiction. This is a journey, the culmination of a two year sojourn among the mundane experience of the daily grind of work, the emotional up's and down's of early adulthood; all the excitement of a world open to your very whim- or should I say "my" very whim? At this point, semantics are of little relevance. What counts here is a new level of understanding- the climax of one quest, and the beginning of another.
Almost two years ago I began to write a novel. A tale of volcanic passion, icy heart break, and slimy betrayal and treachery. I began this novel from a simple feeling; I was in love. Oh what a feeling! I can not even begin to describe what the every day experience of a love shared with another person is like, nor will I try to. You will know it when you get there. Alas, this love was to be short lived. Life got in the way. Things were said, and things were done, that I will not utter here. The crushing agony, like having to move a mountain off of one's chest soon consumed me and writing became my outlet to deal with the pain. Hours turned into days. Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Still the pain lingered on like a pale ghost that tainted me with its presence wherever I went. And I wrote on.
Soon enough, the desire to be recognized for an artistic expression of my inner workings overtook the pain that had gradually began to fade, but faintly lingered on my heart and mind. At this point, I just wanted to be recognized as an individual with a depth that I rarely got to express in any way other than in my writing. As the desire to be recognized spurred me on, I once again found myself in a relationship, this one shorter than the last. And once again, things were said, rumors spread, things were done, and friends were lost. Since that day in September, I've had a lot of time to reflect on my life, and to do a lot of work on my individual issues. What emerged was a much wiser, patient, and relentless part of me to achieve all my goals and desires. And still I wrote on.
This morning, an emotional understanding gripped me in the midst of my daily routine. I have been going about my work and passion for writing in a selfish and misguided way. This morning marked my understanding of the beginning of my true purpose every time I pick up a pen and put words to the page. I want to give back what I was given all of my life. The power of the written word. Whenever I needed a release from the average, every day grind, therapy for a heartache, or whenever I wishes to learn and understand- I would pick up a book. Books and stories have shaped me, just as much as the experiences I have had in my life so far. I want to give back this experience to those in need. I want the boy or girl going through a hardship in their life to pick up a piece of my work, and by the end , I want them to know the world is in its nature, a good place. I want them to know that whatever they face in life, a story will always be there to guide them, to empower them, and to help them learn. I believe I can make this world a better place in my own small way by providing these escapes, and these lessons through my stories. What started with love, culminates in love- full circle, and with a more mature understanding like it was always intended. My love for the written word is now sharper and more clear than ever.
Today, my mission takes a new focus. I will be the provider of these stories to the world. Those who need them, will find them in the hour of their need-all they need to do is look. With this perspective in my mind and on my heart like a newly born star, I will continue my writing and hold true to the belief that somewhere, for someone, I have made the world a brighter place. And this is just the start, for I have only reached a new beginning for my passion. Only time will tell how I myself will evolve, and how each word written will change the course of a life. In finality, I want to say thank you, to God, to the universe for everyday I have lived and every experience that I had. I am who I am, and I couldn't love it more.
This isn't a fairy tale. This isn't a work of fiction. This is a journey, the culmination of a two year sojourn among the mundane experience of the daily grind of work, the emotional up's and down's of early adulthood; all the excitement of a world open to your very whim- or should I say "my" very whim? At this point, semantics are of little relevance. What counts here is a new level of understanding- the climax of one quest, and the beginning of another.
Almost two years ago I began to write a novel. A tale of volcanic passion, icy heart break, and slimy betrayal and treachery. I began this novel from a simple feeling; I was in love. Oh what a feeling! I can not even begin to describe what the every day experience of a love shared with another person is like, nor will I try to. You will know it when you get there. Alas, this love was to be short lived. Life got in the way. Things were said, and things were done, that I will not utter here. The crushing agony, like having to move a mountain off of one's chest soon consumed me and writing became my outlet to deal with the pain. Hours turned into days. Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Still the pain lingered on like a pale ghost that tainted me with its presence wherever I went. And I wrote on.
Soon enough, the desire to be recognized for an artistic expression of my inner workings overtook the pain that had gradually began to fade, but faintly lingered on my heart and mind. At this point, I just wanted to be recognized as an individual with a depth that I rarely got to express in any way other than in my writing. As the desire to be recognized spurred me on, I once again found myself in a relationship, this one shorter than the last. And once again, things were said, rumors spread, things were done, and friends were lost. Since that day in September, I've had a lot of time to reflect on my life, and to do a lot of work on my individual issues. What emerged was a much wiser, patient, and relentless part of me to achieve all my goals and desires. And still I wrote on.
This morning, an emotional understanding gripped me in the midst of my daily routine. I have been going about my work and passion for writing in a selfish and misguided way. This morning marked my understanding of the beginning of my true purpose every time I pick up a pen and put words to the page. I want to give back what I was given all of my life. The power of the written word. Whenever I needed a release from the average, every day grind, therapy for a heartache, or whenever I wishes to learn and understand- I would pick up a book. Books and stories have shaped me, just as much as the experiences I have had in my life so far. I want to give back this experience to those in need. I want the boy or girl going through a hardship in their life to pick up a piece of my work, and by the end , I want them to know the world is in its nature, a good place. I want them to know that whatever they face in life, a story will always be there to guide them, to empower them, and to help them learn. I believe I can make this world a better place in my own small way by providing these escapes, and these lessons through my stories. What started with love, culminates in love- full circle, and with a more mature understanding like it was always intended. My love for the written word is now sharper and more clear than ever.
Today, my mission takes a new focus. I will be the provider of these stories to the world. Those who need them, will find them in the hour of their need-all they need to do is look. With this perspective in my mind and on my heart like a newly born star, I will continue my writing and hold true to the belief that somewhere, for someone, I have made the world a brighter place. And this is just the start, for I have only reached a new beginning for my passion. Only time will tell how I myself will evolve, and how each word written will change the course of a life. In finality, I want to say thank you, to God, to the universe for everyday I have lived and every experience that I had. I am who I am, and I couldn't love it more.
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