I AM.

 

I look from the outside and see me as you, as only those very few who are close can see. Still I am not certain if it is a blessing or a curse of someone who needs to write to live. True, I have called myself the fool, in twisted ways glorified myself as one – but there are fools, and there are Fools, and there are idiots. Idiots bought me drinks at the bar tonight. They loved Ruby, not me.

The fool is the idiot, the pawn, always searching for something more yet not knowing what it is. The Fool however is one who knows the wisdom of the ages and though sometimes forgotten, will do anything to feel that sweet beauty of pain again. The pain of seeing the beauty in every second, the strange way the world is moving, the beauty in a single elegant leaf or the decaying flower. Who needs so much more than the streets of filth I live in. I have perpetual difficulty with the needs that I have, but I know them. I need the road.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Through this pain I become, forever questioning, always fighting for more. In recent times I thought I would be released from it all. I did what I did and it was something, it was memorable – do we all not seek some sort of immortality? If you don’t, I do… but I am not you. I am only what I created as a result of the façade that I needed at the time to live… and now I must relearn love, passion, and desire. I fought for life but had forgotten how to be alive…

I asked for her. I asked for this woman and wonder if it is right, but know in the depths of my heart that it is. She is an angel sent, she is the me that I do not want to see  but I do, she is someone that I fear, want to break away from and love again in a better time when I am corrected, so selfish of me… but the words and the road are my only true loves. For I am courageous, yet fragile – and I think she is the same. I destroy.

I miss the road. I am coming to me again. I am fighting to be the man that you deserve – at least for now.

I am fighting to be me, the me who I was and will be again.

I look from the outside and see me as you, as only those very few who are close can see. Still I am not certain if it is a blessing or a curse of someone who needs to write to live. True, I have called myself the fool, in twisted ways glorified myself as one – but there are fools, and there are Fools, and there are idiots. Idiots bought me drinks at the bar tonight. They loved Ruby, not me.

The fool is the idiot, the pawn, always searching for something more yet not knowing what it is. The Fool however is one who knows the wisdom of the ages and though sometimes forgotten, will do anything to feel that sweet beauty of pain again. The pain of seeing the beauty in every second, the strange way the world is moving, the beauty in a single elegant leaf or the decaying flower. Who needs so much more than the streets of filth I live in. I have perpetual difficulty with the needs that I have, but I know them. I need the road.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Through this pain I become, forever questioning, always fighting for more. In recent times I thought I would be released from it all. I did what I did and it was something, it was memorable – do we all not seek some sort of immortality? If you don’t, I do… but I am not you. I am only what I created as a result of the façade that I needed at the time to live… and now I must relearn love, passion, and desire. I fought for life but had forgotten how to be alive…

I am Prometheus, I am Sisyphus, I am more appropriately Odin, hanging from Yggdrasil. Is this arrogance or a modern day myth? To truly learn requires adversity, and I have that in spades.

All of my life people that I did not even know have told me I was special. Saw something in me that I failed to but dreamed of, that I have always searched for – but honestly, I am no more special than you and who you could be. I am alive because of you. Think on that for a few minutes… really, think.

I asked for her. I asked for this woman and wonder if it is right, but know in the depths of my heart that it is. She is an angel sent, she is the me that I do not want to see  but I do, she is someone that I fear, want to break away from and love again in a better time when I am corrected, so selfish of me… but the words and the road are my only true loves. For I am courageous, yet fragile – and I think she is the same. I destroy. I create. I Love.

I miss the road. I am coming to me again. I am fighting to be the man that she deserves – at least for now.

I am fighting to be me, the me who I was and will be again. I fought against death and won for a reason. Now, it is time to figure out what that reason is.

 

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