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Monday, October 13, 2008


All stories have a beginning. This comes a little late, it's been over 16 years since the start of this particular story, however may as well try to cut in and document this one from now.

To be honest I've never felt quite comfortable or sure in describing my life as a story. In itself, yes, it is, an ongoing one. However, thinking about the beginning of the story, where exactly did this begin? When I was born, or further back, when I was conceived (and God knows no one wants to hear details about that), or further still; when my parents met? This would mean the stories of their lives are part of my story. And by the same reasoning, their parents' lives would be part of their own stories, making my grandparents' stories also a part of mine. And so on...

Not to mention, all those people in my life who have had an impact on me; how did they become a part of my life? That in itself is a story, which is in turn part of the story of both that person and I. Thus, each person is a story. Or if you will, a song. Yet each person's story is inextricably linked with hundreds, if not thousands, millions of people's stories. These lives, these stories, these songs, are all ultimately connected to each other, one great big complicated story and song, ever growing, the sub plots too vast to ever be contained in a book, let alone the overall scheme of things documented in any such way...

Life is an odd, huge, mysterious thing. I am awed to be a part of it when I think of it in this way. But in day to day terms it seems to me a dreary thing, overloaded with pain that I am not willing to stand. So many times I have lain down, decided I am giving up. Not giving up by entering death, another great mystery, but by simply existing, getting through life, merely a "shadow", with no impact or presence whatsoever. But there is something within me which refuses to accept that. That, no matter what, wants to live. Even when I feel that I do not want to live, I cannot deny that still, even when I feel that there is  nothing left, there is too much to live for. Without being able to pinpoint a certain thing, it is simply life. Life is a great adventure, I want to wander and explore it, I want to experience it, I want to live. And the times I feel this the most strongly, I feel young and burning with passion, perhaps a purpose, even if that purpose is to find a purpose. Those are the times I feel strong and confident, I suppose it is that thing known as the foolishness of youth. That rash perspective, that reckless joy in being alive, feeling invincible. Like you could fly. Those are some of the times I feel irrepressible. I hate to be shown that even in these moments, I can be brought crashing down.

Perhaps I allow other people to great an influence on me. I can be made sad by their sadness, flat by their anger, scared by their fear. And this is just characters in a TV show. Friends' moods have a huge impact. Too empathetic? I do not know. But I take it as part of who I am.

This acceptance, this learning to take who I am and be okay with it, it's something I am still gaining a feel for; it is new and strange and most of all, exciting. That I can even like things about myself, it is positively delicious. It is a wondrous thing, I feel like I am still tip toe-ing around in awe after stumbling into the Cave of Wonders..

I ramble. I am too long-winded, I know. It's 1.28 AM and I have school tomorrow. However I don't have to go to 11.30 dsfhlkds. Ah well.

I may leave to bed. Not much of an introduction, by any standard, but it will have to do. Night..

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