Drunk on Writing

I found this "composition", I suppose you could call it, and wanted to post it here. It may seem dark and grim, but it came from a time when I was in a dark and grim place. I like keeping it around because when I read it I don't hear my own voice, I hear someone else's.

December 12, 2010

If I were to write a suicide note, I imagine it would sound something like this:

"Row, row, row your boat" had it right. Well, the ending at least. Life is but a dream, a series of dreams, not like chapters in a book. A book you can go back and relive; life is a series of dreams, each explicitly real and fading. Nightmarish and beautiful, but never relivable. You can't go back and no memory is as strong in the present as it was in the past. The downfall of that reality is that with a book, you can close it, put it aside and never open it again. Life is a dream you can never wake up from, only in death. The past is a faded memory that you can never shut out, and while the reality of past situations resonate only softly, the pain resides forever. And while lessons can be learned and the future reshaped, the hurt never goes away. A book is a controllable creation: conflict created, resolutions planned, a definable conclusion. Dreams are uncontrollable phenomena. I used to believe that one could control one's destiny but I've come to learn that this is not truth. Whereas I can make the necessary decisions to cease my emotional pain, they are never easy and the pain never really ends. Conclusions do not result in emotional resolution but merely the cessation of collective hurt and suffering. At whatever point the story ends, that specific experience of pain never really goes away. It subsides and is covered with new tortures or inexplicably resurfaces like an old wound. It's inescapable and haunting. While they say we create our own pain and happiness, most of it is created upon us...by others, by an unseen force, by circumstance. And how is it possible to outrun a relentless nightmare? Either we continue to run and hope for eventual happiness or we wake up. For now, I'll keep running. not away from the pain, but toward an ultimate conclusion. Toward the beautiful dream.