Essays of Expression

Sometimes when I am writing my stories, I delve deep into a characters psyche - or what I imagine to be their psyche. I have to become that character to better understand what they are feeling. And sometimes, I just get moody and have this dramatic monologue going on in my head that just won't stop unless I give in and write the darn thing down - or just sit and write. Somehow, penning it down makes it stop. Most of the time, anyway. I've never actually try to type one up, but it's occurred to me that these could be really useful for characterizations later. And they are an excellent out when you feel like you are going nuts... :)

The essays aren't really going to be named, just dated...

12/18/99
No freakin way!

Anger.

Pain.

Sorrow.

And…. Something else.

Human.

Raw and hurt.

Anger… no freakin way!

Pain… I can't do this again..

Sorrow… please forgive me…

It gives way to something else, something more tangible, raw.. hurtful… human. Full of conflicting … waves of neurons seeking the way out, to peace, to silence.

Silence is perfect, the epitome of peace. Silence is all I ever reach for. Silence is the thing that calls me in the void of the night, the thing that I crave, seek, strive, battle, cry out for. Silence is….

Unobtainable. Like the clouds above. Like the unspoken word. Like the hurried thought, exiting before existence is acknowledged.

I can't do this again! I can't let this happen. There was too much before, crowding the perspective. But I know.. I know..

Try walking in MY shoes…

The words echo mysteriously, beckoningly, promising peace, promising silence. And like a child, knowing better, knowing NO better, I follow, I listen, I try… to obey.

And like a child in the dirt, realizing too late the mistake, vowing never to repeat..

NO!.

Not again!

Anger is red with heat, and fire, and pain… pain is black, like a void, taking over all the senses, overriding all until there is nothing left.. nothing left but sorrow… which has no color, only … emptiness.

But not silence. Never silence. Only… empty. Like a vacated domicile.. it is losing your soul to something that you thought you knew… it is losing yourself in the error of you mistake.. it is… losing, to that which you vowed to vanquish. It is.. nothing you can recover. It is… that which is stronger than anything else, that which swallows all else..

NEVER AGAIN!

And then the anger returns, bringing back the memories and the pain all over again, but this time it is welcome, embraced, for anything is better than being empty.

Anything.

Anything at all.

Is better than being… empty.

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