Trying my hand at something new

So I just saw an amazing play and I wanted to write some sort of monologue ..problem is that there is no basis for it other than i just want it to exist. Oh well here goes something.

I know not Sanity.

What would monologue be if it were not written for a specific purpose? How would a bird fly if it were never told it could? For years the impossible has plagued my mind to the point where I know that I am not your average bear. Rather I am black sheep, who strays from the flock not out of choice, but by habit. My head is like water and oil, stuck in a timeless dance in which there is no touching. It is madness with a positive outlet, it is the only thing I know.

I know not fear.

I only know the sweet satisfaction of overcoming issues that we build up in our minds, like demonic snowballs that become progressively larger and larger until we either move the hell out the way or allow ourselves to be swallowed.

I have long forgotten pain.

To know pain in my mind implies that any sort of pain is new, that world can keep inspiring me to feel hurt in new ways every day. This is by no means the case. Somewhere in the course of my 18 years of life my and pain have become brothers, forever intertwined so we are never without the other. It is through this bond with pain that I can progress and live life, for the worst enemy I could encounter on my journey is the one that I am already bonded with.

I am no stranger to failure.

We all fall, some more than others and me more than those. The plane we exist on is not easy to survive in, and that is a truth that most people know but do not easily accept. We all want to put ourselves out there be we do not want our submissions rejected, our applications denied, nor our ideas shut down. I struggle to find the balance between failure and success because without one then the other truly cannot exist.

I do not know how to properly love.

I want to help all those I hold dear to me, even old flames I see struggling to stay ablaze with the winds of the world trying to blow them out. Life of course does not function by your desires, but rather its desires, and life wants nothing more than to stay on a straight path. It is hard to love and remember the past fondly when everything is designed to make you look forward. The wave of the future, societal standards, and even education. We never take enough time to look back and see what has keep us alive to this point.

I am not a writer.

Funny it takes me inspiration to say something that matters. Maybe I actually am a writer, maybe I have just been hiding in the shadows for far too long. Like a late blooming cactus maybe it is time for me to take on the world that I so critically analyze in my own insane cranium. Or maybe I truly am not a writer…I could just be a fake, posing to be a part of something that I think means a lot when really I have no place in this community. That of course would mean that I would have to stop…stop talking about things I love and things that matter...and to stop doing what you love for now reason makes as much sense as nothing. If the universe strikes me down as I type with my fingers or dabble with my pen maybe then ill slow down…

Until then I will continue to speak the truth.