Wednesday, May 14, 2014


What do you do when your flawed belief system is shattered?
Well, first you sit in silence, filled with an empty feeling.
Then you realize it has finally happened.
Despite the fact that everyone told you you were wrong no one could convince you.
Then one day like a puff of smoke it vanishes.

There isn't even a gradual progression of letting go of it, or if there was, you didn't notice it.
You wonder if this is the spiritual death other writers talk about.
You feel like you can't go on, because you have nothing to grip onto.
You feel like you have wasted ten years of your life.
You feel like you lost ten years of your life.

Is it true that as long as you don't detach from something you cannot accurately write about it?
I had a lot of theories and stories.
I was inside of them and they were inside of me.
Now I have one story to write and I no longer care about it, because it's a story.
It isn't real in the sense I wanted it to be.

I wanted to prove something to people.
And I wanted to be right.
They put up with me.
Most of them tried to help me.
But I had to come to the conclusion myself.

I am wrong.
I am sorry.
I am sorry I wasted everyone's time including my own.
I am at fault.
And I have to move on with my life, alone.

I am not going to become an overnight success at anything.
And until I find a healthier belief system to latch onto I am like a blank slate.
Gone with my belief system is the feeling I was in love with someone.
I paid a high price for what I believed in, but there were some benefits.
I was told I created some poems that affected people.

I don't expect to write about the person I called "you" anymore.
Because he was a part of a grand delusion and he doesn't really exist.
And I think that is the part I am missing the most.
I may be here for a very long time.
Rebuilding from scratch.

And I don't feel the flames of passion.
Or the turmoil.
Or the fierce belief.
Mostly I just wish I was asleep.
Or that I could escape from reality.

My reality now is devoid of friends.
Of hope.
Of fantasy.
I hope you realize what has happened.
Maybe someday I will learn to have fun again, fun without expense.

Maybe someday I will be capable of loving a real person.
But wasn't it priceless at times?
Even now I hold out a small hope for my future.
That one day I can make something of myself.
The flame is very small and I will have to protect it vigilantly.

It's guttering in the wind.
Strangely I think it almost wants to go out.
What then?
Well, I'll be left alone in the darkness.
A strange place to be alone with a burnt out candle.

And I only have one candle which is mine.
I can't go and sit by someone else's candle.
It's not mine.
Ben Harper said, "there will always be a light.'
Yes, there will always be, until there is no more.

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