_dramatic_

Forget about what I'm supposed to do. Forget about what I've done. Forget all about all I am supposed to be as a soldier, as a person. I miss this feeling, I miss being able to write freely, even though what I created wasn't stellar. I miss talking, unguarded with everyone.

When did this begin, when did everything begin- the ravenous spiral of lies and maybes. Maybe it was the first time I felt the thrill, of leaving everything behind in the embarking of a new and exciting journey. Within a world where nothing else mattered save myself, and reality was all that my imagination defined it to be. When did I begin to question what everything is, and how everything is defined by each individual, different from me, different from what I imagined it could be. And I began to explore, the world of words- plain and empty, open to interpretation, my meanings open to myself alone.

Being around people, who lived in a world different from mine. Remote through a thick curtain which light could barely even pass through, much less words. Your voices, reaching, distorted through the void. A soft voice, kind yet full of sorrow, calling me from somewhere far away. Should I have run, or pushed through the folds of time, piling upon each other in a tangle that will never come loose.

Instead I wrote. I dived and tunneled into this new world that I had found. If... I didnt have this paper and pencil, what would I have done? Being alone amongst all these people.. how would I have lived? All the while believing I was ok because I had my pencil and paper. Writing gave me life and protected me- it let me move forward and helped me fight my battles. But now, I can't find it, not anymore, not ever again.

Having lost the spark, there was a dull monotony which I couldn't deal with. I withdrew, and let us fight our battles. Face our fears and bathe in our glory. And little by little, I faded away. The more I faded, the most it consumed me, the shadow of the spark that wanted to create something once more. Being unable to answer myself was worse then having to ignore the world- I was always there, and I can't escape myself. I wanted desperately to go back to the time when everything was alright. To become the normal person with infinite untapped potential once more and the ability to sculpt life in words.

I'd fight with all I had and swear if I were ever to stop writing, at that moment i would return my life to you. There was always a soundless scream coming from your backs as I watched you(s) leave me behind again and again.

Then one came along. You gave me a reason to break that shell, to see that the perfect life I was living wasn't at all. A farce that no one would be fooled by, a farce that was a baffling in its simplistic logic as its pointlessness.

And for once, I heard a small voice. It told a truth so plain it hurt. Its absurd thinking that your life is meaningless if you dont leave something behind. Just living is enough.

And my eyes opened. I sought to find others like myself, to tell them that its alright to have nothing to live for. That its fine if you lose everything, if you don't know who you are or where you're going as long as you live on. Just living is enough. Enough hurting, enough fighting, we'll lay our arms down today.

sdrow erom on, one call
Heya, hows life?
Good
(You'll probably cry alot again)
Are you alright?
(Don't cry for somone who made you cry)
Yep, I'm fine
(There really isn't anything left here anymore is there?)
Im doing well here too, take care of yourself and dont work so hard
(why?)
Sure, send them my regards
(When things get out of hand, call me)
I'll catch up with you soon
(why...)
Sure, bye
(because I love you)
Good night
(I could tell, yet another thing tying me to this world, is unraveling...
----------------------------------------------------

All I wanted was to hear your non-mono-syllabic reply.

The gentle rain falls above us. Only for the people who miss each other, it will be _dramatic_

Quote of e Post:
With the precious thing broken, can we still be reunited again someday? The remaining scar won’t vanish, yet we have to go to our own separated place.