I could write with pen and paper again, maybe I will at some point. But I already did this before until I stopped.
And I would also have a problem to do what I am doing with pen and paper.
But I did all of it, all the writing what the woman from the TED talk was talking about, I just did it and didn’t think much of it. It was just how I did it, how it always was. So strange that it all was right, but always felt wrong and got called wrong or at least strange.
As I said, for me movies and books always felt real and stories were real in a special way. I mean not all of them, but the ones I actually wanted to watch and enjoyed. Sometimes even the ones I didn’t like. I just felt that there was more to it, than just a fictional story. And there sure was, I mean someone must have written it, right? Isn’t this enough?
But other people just say: “It is just fiction. Are you silly? You can’t really believe this could be true, do you?”, “Are you stupid? How can you believe in this?” … Yes, this is what I thought after they said these things. Sometimes even without words, just a smile which meant “You silly one, you stupid child” And then I know I knew more than everybody else, but I thought it was wrong until it was because I tried to make it what they said. How could I do such a horrible thing, how could I? And yet, I still want to go. Still want to leave this world, but then I know I have a mission. I feel like a general who just motivates and army to march into battlefield only to give myself a bullet when we arrive. Leaving the army alone, helpless, hopeless – to be killed by the enemy.
Why should I do such a thing? Why do I feel this way? And I know it is true, while I don’t even have an army. I only have a hand full of people, which would probably support me or at least accept me. But then I could really make something big, I feel I can, but I fear it, so I always think, that I might do it all wrong, that I don’t really feel right or that I can’t be a leader in some way. And I don’t want to be a leader, of course not, but the one who shows the way in some way. I feel that this is my mission and that I actually have to take action. But I also think it might all be wrong because I act like a fool, still after all. And how could a fool lead an army? – Bullet in my head.
I might have all the answers, while I have none.
But while I am not writing, I want to write. When I am writing I want to live and when I live I want to die soon after because living implies dying. But not just like that. When I want to die because I lived, I actually just lose hope in what I feel because I am used to darkness, I am used to bad things, death is my friend and darkness was my friend, but I wasn’t my friend.
All the difference actually means to be similar, while not actually being similar. We are one while we are different, naturally. If all the cells in your brain would do the same, than you would be dead, brain dead, dead in the grave. So if our brain has different cells for different things and they all work together… more or less, why can’t we? We are cells of something bigger and our difference is our power, but we trade it in, to be the same, to be dead, while we think it is how it has to be. Our brain is always dying, while it wants to live. Imagine the whole humanity, as one big brain. (I am not the first one on this, I know, I will probably never be, but then still, it can’t be enough.) And our brain has a mental problem because it fights against itself, sounds familiar? So the question is, can some cells of your brain make you whole, can we few cells make us all whole, can we?
Are we capable of this? There is always wounder among those who believe, without wonder, there is no life, without believe, you just believe what others say, what you tell yourself. We always believe, always in something, but can we believe, that we can do the impossible? Can we be sane, if we want to be? I believe… I believe. Otherwise I would be dead already.
I almost cried, tears are in my eyes. How beautiful, what a beautiful and sad thing at the same time. Tears and smiles, the feeling of love.
For the track Primogenitus mortuorum, Vivens, Mortua iterum:
“Was there ever a prophet your ancestors did not persecute? They even killed those who predicted the coming of the Righteous One. And now you have betrayed and murdered him”
They replied, “Are you from Galilee, too? Look into it, and you will find that a prophet does not come out of Galilee.
And so they say. You can’t do this, you can’t be that. They know, when they know nothing. I don’t know anything, but I know I can when I need everything. Only if I could be always like this. Maybe I can. I can, I will… will I survive till then? We need love. We need what I want to do, but then I fear to do it because I don’t it would be the right thing. How strange…