Like in a truly remarkable film, recollection of my life's story may appear to start somewhere in the middle of something, moving along from that point on, and filling in the blanks with an absurd series of flashbacks and fantasies. That just seems to be how my mind works.
I don't really know what to call the beginning, but it all had to start at some point. Thinking too far back results in a blur, and in reality, sometimes my memory is not actually clear cut. I'm likely to distort some or most of my reality for the comfort of (at least) tolerable circumstances. The truth is I think I like it when life hurts, when fantasy becomes reality, or when things don't really seen to make sense. I don't know what point in time I should call the beginning, but it's been quite a long time since then.
My passions began to develop early in life, although I'm sure I went through many years not knowing this. At a young age I liked certain things that others disregarded. Later, I developed a very introverted nature. This, I'm sure has been in part a blessing and a curse. During my adolescence creativity came and went without warning, and melancholy became a usual entity in my life. Many different emotions would flood my mind uncontrollably, and not knowing how to handle them would result in unnecessary choices and too much wasted time. My mind was becoming a beautifully twisted mess. Controlling this mess would prove harder than it seemed, yet by leaving a space for the uncontrollable and contradictory ideas seemed a logical way to cope. My life was coming together and I was starting to become what I am now.
0 comments:
Post a Comment