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To seek the comfort of words to numb the harshness of reality. This is the role of the author. To effectively distort the truth in life, to shape it at his or her own leisure until it acquires a likeness not at all recognisable when compared to its original form. To find beautiful words and beautiful scenarios, to concoct inconceivable fancies, seems to be my role.
How does it feel knowing the whole world as you know it, your friends and family, is slowly crumbling away? When people want to cut themselves off from you? When you realise you probably don’t actually have any friends, just a large series of acquaintances with whom you share idle small-talk to pass away the time with. It is a mutually beneficial experience. Both of those who partake in the exchange exploit the other, use them to the other’s benefit, and afterwards promptly leave the meeting point to spend time with their real friends.
But what happens when one member of the exchange doesn’t have any real friends? This idle chit-chat is all there seems to be for this person. That’s why it tears you to shreds when, against all odds, you finally connect with someone. You talk meaningfully with this person, you share secrets with each other, you know each other inside and out. It tears you to shreds, because like all relationships they wither and die. Eventually polite words and good intentions seem to fill an empty void. There is nothing left but a feeble tether of connection which rots from its outside in and then snaps in the middle.
I am an instrument of resounding sorrow and regret, scouring the world for true connection, but all I seem to find are compilations of words stringed together into beautiful sentences. I tie the strings together neatly into a delicate tapestry of thoughts and feelings; I try to weave a better version of reality. And while everything collapses around me, my four white walls sheltering me all the while, I gaze out the window at the broken debris. My delusional conception of the world hangs on the wall, a useless unprofitable vision of crude braids and scraggly dreams.
Anonymous asked: do u like bananas ? ;)
Are you kidding me? Bananas are the most delicious things in the world! I give eternal praise to the one who invented them, though they will never assume a higher role than freshly harvested brains.
Impressive and profound. Got any more?
Hey thanks so much! This is the epilogue to a novella/short story I’ve written, but unfortunately this is the only part I consider half decent! Part of the reason I joined Tumblr was actually to publish it online as a sort of series, but it’s been a while since I’ve actually touched it and it needs editing really desperately!
Perhaps in the very near future I will start editing it again. Maybe after exams (or maybe even during the period of studying for exams because that’s the sort of thing I’m likely to do :P). The first part, or ‘prologue’ is actually done but there are about ten parts in total. I want to finish all of them first, and edit them nicely so I can publish them at a nice and constant rate.
But this was always a project I wanted to jump back into. It is very deep and personal to me, I put a lot of thought and effort into it last year. But at the moment that effort comes out as looking really terrible because I think it needs to be completely overhauled! But thank you for your enthusiasm, you’ve given me the motivation to start working on this again.
TZ
Down at the duck pond
walking and wading, the
two families meet
