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Everything posted by That1Cellist
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I feel it again. That yearning for worlds unspoken. That wanting for those beings, places and magics enclosed in paper, drawings, and screens. The lonely stretching of my soul for that which I will never have. A piece of me is forever lost in those pages. Paper that is more beautiful than I will ever be. Tales of death and love haunt my sleep, and I know there is no release. Oh, how I wish my place was in the ink, where the great ones lie. The heroes of stories who entertained my fancies of grandeur while on sleepless childhood nights, the fierce slashing of swords, the tales of those who were strong. The one’s whose minds moved them against each other, opposite genius striking like phantoms with words and actions, and not with blood. And on the nights sleep is taken from me, I think of myself and where I am. Who am I? What is here?
I ponder on this world with it’s evils and goods of gray. I think of the shadows cast so far that they are unseen, for they cover all that is to be viewed. I think of myself. The coward, the fool, the worthless. And I wish that I could be more than that. Like those experts of sword or fighters of great strength with their poise and power. Or those quiet ones of chilling genius, carrying out their plans in secret, bending the world and people to their vision. I wish I was as a user of magic or a great adventurer. Yet, here I am, a pathetic husk of a being. And in my self reflection I think of how I desire to be like those. The ones who are special, or maybe the people who do something. My frailty and foolishness are present in this. I should not entertain these impossible fantasies. Indeed, I once threw them off, hoping to leave them. But they are here now, again, and I cannot reject them. Invisible arms stretch from me, grasping towards the things that I want most. The things which I am not and will never be. The things that I do not have.
In the mirror I see an idiot. An ugly fool who is very much in reality. I have not the appearance of one lost in thought or the look of a person who just wants to curl up and stop existing. I am very much real, here, for how much I wish I was not. Even in this writing I fail. In the fragility of my being and frailty of my words, I do not make myself understood. I do not convey the yearning, stretching, wanting inside of me. I can not share the treachery of my own body and mind. I want, I want, I want. Within the body of one soon grown but the mind of a child I reside.
Oh, if I could be among the stars!
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Are we not among the stars?
Our world seems mundane when compared to those far distant from our current place. We go through cycles, day by day, dreaming of places beyond what we know, dreaming of being beyond what we can be.
But a tiny voice whispers in our minds: "You have potential beyond what your mind can understand.You are loved by a being that has created worlds, and he sees fit for you to do the same. Stay strong. Stay steadfast. Do not doubt. For any flaws in yourself or your world can be fixed by the one who understands them fully, and with that help you will be better than any hero you have ever seen in the worlds of the pages."
We are among the stars, and are children of the one who made them. Children we are; lost, foolish, stubborn, indeed. But we can learn. We can grow, grow up, grow towards the destiny that each of us has in mind.
Can you keep that in mind? No matter what flaws you see in yourself at any time in your life, can you remember the love that is felt for you, and the being that you have the potential to become?
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The longing is always there. The wish to join these heroes, the wish to become them. The wish to be something more than what we are, and the idea that being in those places would give us that.
For is it not easier to slay a dragon, to sail with pirates, to steal from a king…we could do it all. We want to do it all. Because, after all, the heroes aren’t fighting their own minds. The heroes don’t have to struggle to find purpose. They don’t have to feel guilty for being sad when life could not be going better.
We could be heroes, yes. But heroes take what is given them, and they don’t shrink away. So are we villains? Are we weak? Or are we only humans, doomed to fail whenever we try, but cursed to stand up and try again? To try is to fail, but to fail is to learn. To learn is to grow, and to grow is to be better.
If you never save a fair maiden, that doesn’t mean you aren’t a hero. If you never halt a war, that doesn’t make you less worthy to live. If you only save one soul, and if that soul is your own, you have succeeded.
You have not failed.
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I have felt all those things at various times recently too, Cellist.
The one thing that has carried me through it is summed up really well in Rhythm of War
"You will be warm again."
There will always be another sunrise. There will be another good day eventually. Even in our darkest moments, we can know that things won't always be this way. Life is highlighted by change. We won't ever be exactly like our heroes in the books, but we can do our best to become like them. There is one big thing we can do to be like them. Whenever we fall, we can rise up again, no matter how long it takes.
"There will be times when the struggle is impossible. I know this already." "Remember this: Try."
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