Gerik's Non-RO Art Dump (With some RO in it)

[Zerrif]

Here's an old piece of cathartic writing that I found rather poignant. I haven't deleted it since I feel it's one of the best things I ever wrote.

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I always tend to write as my way of cathartic release. I'll cry, I'll laugh, I'll show emotion when I write. At any other point in time, I'm cold, lifeless. Apathetic. That's probably the best word. No one really cares about me because I don't really give a damn about them.

Except when I write. Every single character's movement burns into my mind, being the only real memories I have. Every single word they say is all I can remember; trying to brainstorm a possible response for the whole day, only using the perfect one. I guess I'm a perfectionist like that.

Maybe I'm selfish. Yeah. I'm probably selfish. Sitting with my pen and pad, scritching down words. Sitting at my computer, or with my laptop, tip-tapping the keys into oblivion; as I overuse them so much their springs break. Or even just there with my thoughts, playing possible sequences over, and over, and over again.

What makes it worse is that I usually base something off of a real life situation. Something to give myself an answer; but not a real answer to my problems. Yelling, screaming, anger all get contorted into monsters that could never exist, never be slain by such whimsical means. Life isn't that easy. Life is never that easy.

Life is simple. Not easy. Breathe. Look. Eat. Sleep. Function. Basics of life. Doing all these things isn't easy. The act of it is simple. Describing it is with words is simple. Written, oral, thought; description is always simple. Effective. But the actual action is so hard. Why? Why can't life ever be easy? Why can't it be like a story, in which we can control, alter, change the things we want to so it becomes more fitting for what we want?

That's because life is a story. But we're not the writers. We're the characters, the main protagonists of each of our own stories. Some are written quickly, hastily, and without detail. Some are painfully slow, every moment lived to its utmost fullest. Some are just written, neither horribly, nor exceptionally. Those simple, normal, plain stories. Nothing extravagant, nothing lacking. Just stories.

That's what I live. Just a story. I want something extravagant to happen. I want something to be lacking, so I can go on a grand adventure to find it. But people always tell me that I do lack something. Emotion. Control. Sympathy. I told them I've already replaced it with Apathy. No emotion. Just going with the flow. Not caring. Maybe that's my story. A story of apathy. But am I going to change it? No, not really. I'm fine with the way it is now. That's the way I am.

Then again, why am I so sad at my life? I want to change, but I don't. I'm lazy like that. I cry because I want things to change, but I don't use the strength I have to change anything. I simply sit there, almost content with just crying about it. Not taking action. That's the path I choose, and those are the consequences I deal with.

Not anymore, at least.

---

I shut the journal and stood up, smiling. I threw the pen in the garbage, and left the journal closed on my desk.

"Why don't you go do something proactive, for once?" Someone told me. I smiled.

"Eh, why not?" I replied, and they looked back at me in shock. Maybe it was time for a change. I'd always enjoyed writing, why not write my own story?

Maybe it wasn't that easy. Maybe I'd end up crying again. But that's the path I chose, and I will have to deal with the consequences, don't I?