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Writing is a challenge anymore. We can't sit and write like we used to. We're sapped of energy, I guess, but I'd like to write like I had. Getting straight into the character's mind, to see what they saw, hear and think what they hear and think. That's something I miss; I'm almost desperate for it again. But now, and I think I know the problem, we just can't do it. There's like some kind of wall in front of both image and thoughts of whoever is there.
And, like I said, I think I know the problem behind this. My characters are normally fiesty little creatures that are hard to tame and get to do what I want; a lot of the times they were controlling me and making me do what they wanted instead of the other way around. And now all my characters are running together. Their personalities are meshing, not just with each other, but with mine. And that's poses a big, BIG problem.
Used to, I could see the differences of my characters, I could hear their voices, see their appearance, see their actions; now I get large blanks. I look into my mind and it's like standing in a dark room--you don't know how large this room is, mind you--with the only light coming from above or beneath you, showing only white at your feet and above your head. No sounds. Not even your own breathing.
That's what it's like.
Empty, lonely, dark. I say my mind is big and can wrap around anything, but really I think its small and I know I refuse to see the reality of a lot of situations. It's sort of like my opinion on "dreams." It sucks, really. Because there's nothing there; not even the organ that's supposed to be there!
Just like the organ that's supposedly hidden behind my ribcage. Well, if it's there, it's certainly not doing it's job. But I don't believe it's there. I don't feel it, I don't hear it. Your normally suppose to hear your heart sometimes, and you're supposed to feel it, but it doesn't seem to be that way with me. And the doctors can prove it. I'm dead serious--last time I went to the doctor because of a routine check-up the school needs from us, they could not find a pulse nor could they get blood pressure; whipped out the stethoscope: nothing. Absolutely serious. Funny though, huh?
Point being proven, I shall move on to another topic.
Hummmm . . . another topic. I don't know quite yet. Normally these ramblings go so well, they just sort of run into each other, you know? At least, the other ones did. They used to. As I've said, I can't write anymore.
I need a big problem, something that's really bothering me. Well, gee, it just so happens a lot is bothering me. Like a boy and a girl. Well, not so much the girl, since we don't talk anymore, but the boy . . . ugh, the boy. I like to think he doesn't care, and I'm sure I'm right, but it's hard to think that way about him. I've known him for so long, and he's a great guy, but the more I lie to myself, the better. Lies are always good.
Lies are always comforting, believe it or not. But you know it; deep down you really do believe it. A lie can hurt, but until then it's comforting. A really good liar--someone who doesn't sneer, or laugh, or avoids eye contact, or makes some kind of nervous or hateful jittery movement--can make a lot of people feel really good, they could have the world in their hand. You probably see it at school with the queen or snob, people flocking to her (because it's always a her), being the sun in her own solar system. She laughs, she compliments, and she sneers. But she laughs and compliments only those with advantages, so she can have those advantages. She's a fake. You know this.
Some people have run across those lies that people say when they really like you; others get the lies that people say when they really hate you. Mine was always the second option. But that's not quite what we're talking about. Does anyone know the definition for "lie"?
According to my Merriam-Webster Dictionary, which is back from 1998 or 2000--I forget--there are at least 4 definitions, and I'm going to refer you to the last two:
3lie vb: to tell a lie
4lie n: an untrue statement made with intent to deceive
And my Merriam-Webster Thesaurus says pretty much same thing. God, I love that thesaurus; I just got it. Anyway.
An untrue statement made with intent to deceive. You see that? It doesn't say that it's meant to deceive for good or bad, just deceive. And deceive, although not having a very good reputation, does not always mean for evil. I've had people deceive me to protect me; I've seen positions in which someone deceived another to keep them safe. People lie for different reasons. The main reasons will always be out of hate or protection, though. Why do you lie? Mostly to keep yourself safe. It's the whole, "My dog ate my homework..." excuse that's always popping up. However, if you keep it in those words, no one believes them anymore; screw up the words and you've got a genuine lie.
Now, why am I talking about lies this time around? Well, I'm not quite sure. I suppose it's because if anyone knows a lie, it's me. I am a continuous liar to a lot of people--most friends excluded. Like most children I've been telling lies ever since I could talk and think up a little white lie, but unlike most children they didn't stay white. People tell white lies to cover up mistakes and such; mine are much worse, much bigger, and the farthest thing from white. Pitch black.
But telling lies makes you feel good. You can snicker behind your own back and feel like you're getting away with something. It's like stealing. Sometimes it's an outlet. Besides, lying just feels better than telling the truth . . . that is, until that lie starts to eat away at you. Which sometimes it will. Then you'll come clean and start all over. Otherwise, you keep the truth inside.
Shall we move on?
A dog growls when its angry; a cat growls when its happy. A dog wags its tail when its happy; a cat wags its tail when its angry.
At least, that's how I think it goes. Something like it. Funny I can't remember since it's one of my favorite sayings. It shows so much difference, individuality. Cats and dogs are like oil and water, after all. But sometimes they get along. How come? Well, I guess some just mesh. I've always wondered if animals could communicate with other animals. Or if you read an animals mind, will it be human words you hear? I've always wondered these things, but they're impossible to know.
Ever been in the middle of a crowd--like a party: everything bright, loud, people surrounding every side of you, maybe even pushing up against you--yet you feel completely alone? Well, I'm sure you've had the feeling plenty of times unless you're a well-liked person at parties. But how about a lifetime? Say you get the feeling a few times when you go out, but then you warm up to your surroundings; or you've never felt this kind of emptiness before. Could you deal with it for a lifetime? No. Of course you couldn't.
I remember a friend telling me a few days ago, we were talking about a boy (who I mentioned earlier) we both know who's in love and such, and she claimed love is for the weak of heart. I replied that, obviously, no one wants to be lonely. And she told me that she'd rather be alone . . . but only for a little while. She obviously wouldn't be able to stand the emptiness, the darkness, the quiet, and the loneliness forever.
Would you?
If you just answered yes: stop lying to yourself. You know it as well as I that you would take a small taste of it then push it away. You wouldn't be able to handle it. Not forever. Not for as long as you live--unless you grew weary and ended it all for you. But how do you do that? Simple: More darkness. Well, not darkness in a sense, but darkness in the physical world; your eyes would be staring at the inside of your eyelids until your flesh dissolves.
That sounds better and better every day.
Don't you agree? Of course you don't; you don't want it to happen. But you know you'll die one day, anyway. So why wait? Perhaps because we're all scared of it happening to us. I know sometimes I am. At least, to go through the aging process. I'm terrified of growing old, getting sicker, becoming weaker. Why are people always so proud when someone lives to be one hundred or over? Why would anyone want to live that long? So you've watched the world grow, now what? So you've spread your legacy, now what? Sit around and wait for Death to waltz through your door, of course. But who in their right mind would want to live over fifty? I don't even want to get near that number. Twenty-five is fine for me, thanks. Right in the prime, I'd think. Not that it really matters, anyway.
Everyone has their problems, I realize this. Everyone has problems that are greater than others, I realize this also. But do I accept reality? No. Why should I? Reality just keeps blowing up in my face, in my arms, so why should I listen to it, let it reason with me? Reality is not quite reality, you know. It's a substance formed out of lies and fantasies. Is that something you can trust? Fantasies are not true; lies are not true. Can you really believe in reality?
That is lesson two.
 Olive_the_Monkey_Ninja · Sun Oct 28, 2007 @ 08:44am · 2 Comments |
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