What I Know About My Life

1028 Words5 Pages
I was never brilliant with words, in any context of my being, yet I can now see them all so vividly in their unlimited arrangement. Creativity seems an insurmountable idea when every thought enters your mind at once, all strung together and inseparably bound. They become so numerous that their individuality becomes incoherent and their uniqueness shines only to reveal their flaws. As I write this, I feel that for myself they hold no meaning. In fact, they seem arbitrary for the purposes of what I wish to share. And with this thought, I realize that I must carry some sense of self after all. I realize what I want you to know of me, if be known to you at all. I realize now that I want you to know that I desire to live. If desire was any such thing as potent enough to return me to my path – direct me in such a way that I might know from which beginning I come – then desire is too powerful a tonic and my flesh, whatever holdings it may have, is too frail. I am death, I am life, I am nothing if not insignificant among the countless mass of all that is, was, and may be. Yet why do I desire to live, if by that action I would be nothing more than a momentary passenger within a weak vessel, the service of which is solely to expire? Why crave it, when I would only be set upon by my own ravaging consumption if it were ever to be mine? How poisonous, desire. And so I am intoxicated, not by desire, but by its object so cruelly taunted before me, and I cannot cure my thoughts. Though no solution finds me, my mind is not void. In place of emptiness, which in some ways I would think much too merciful, I am instead clouded by an assault of caustic imaginings working to destroy me, were such a thing possible. Among these, I find no answers to ... ... middle of paper ... ... I have to say. I am no longer of this place, if ever I was, and forever I 'll be with you. We have never met, our eyes have never opened, we will never be and I will never know of what could have been. If only I could live for you, but I am death. I am life, and I would give myself to you if only you were to ask it of me. I would exist solely for you, if not for existence denying me its warm hand. I would make us one, if only our sums could ever be known. Hear me again, dearest, I desire to live! Though, what life would that be without you? I don 't know this answer. In my everything, my existence, and my infinite reach, I can 't grasp it. I never will. I want to be alone. I want to cease. I want to disappear. I want to die. I want to vanish. I want to be nothing. I wanted everything, but everything meant nothing to me. All I wanted, all I 've ever wanted, was you.

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