Creativity: A Short Story

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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 …show more content…

My flesh not bound and my thoughts uncertain, this time as it now stands feels so delightful within the retrospective of endless foresight. In this moment, death speaks to me in a soft whisper that carries with it a note of bitter loss. He beckons me and at once casts me out, drowning me in a radiance that exists by the means of an unimaginable emptiness with nothing to lull its call but my own, cried in response. I cry for joy. I cry from fear. I cry with hope and despair, and all that I know as I am now. I cry loudly from the knowledge that all I know, no other can. None will, and forever my existence will be refused. I am never to become what I am. Said simply, I am never to be. Of course I realize the irony, dearest friend, in my words and my cries. None of this will reach you, for I realize I am as much a mute as I am a cripple by way of the truth. I realize the truth that, within my ears resounding and through my eyes blinding, desire will never release me. I realize the flaw in my thinking that I could ever change anything at all. Everything is as it will be, and all things are to inevitably be undone. Desire will continue to consume me, intoxicating me with indecision and hope. These words are for myself, just vainglorious prattle affecting …show more content…

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

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