How do you keep giving to your reality when it gives nothing back? How does one have faith when faith constantly challenges him? How do I find my path when I'm constantly made to make a choice?
---
Chapter one. Fight.
And I told the world that if it wants to bring me to my knees then it'll have to give it all.
A disciple of life is always content with where he is, a disciple of life will know when to stand down and when to fight. The traveler knows which path to take and where to rest, the traveler knows the shortest routes to the best locations. The wanderer is content with who they are, they know exactly who to talk to and what to do whenever they are down, they go by in life with only them in mind but constantly grabbing people along, showing them wonder and venom. I said to myself, I'm a disciple of life, I shall challenge it and let be challenged by it. I said to myself I can take any blow it throws at me. Yes, indeed I am still standing but at what cost? I fought myself to hell, to someones nightmare and for so long that I was left in dismay. I created the world around me, and I danced with dreams and nightmares in the same masquerade party who I was the host of. Twisted and torn in both directions of good and bad I was still standing, ready to dance. But I could never win as a disciple against my master, I could never master life, I decided to leave the battle and hike...
Chapter two. Eastern winds.
I decided to walk: never been too fond of speed, I set myself on a course of existence. I wanted to find my way into meaning. I walked for miles, I conquered my fears with every step taking me deeper and deeper into chaos. As a person with not much care for material nature I constantly kept losing bits and pieces of my self. The cloak and coat I decided to wear for my journey have been torn and barely give me heat. I traveled until I came to a spot where I could rest. An old shabby inn called ''A fork in the road'' south of responsibility and southeast from success. It was then when I realized I'm going nowhere, I don't have a destination. Conveniently enough, (to my ill-faith) the inn was at a crossroads. It didn't see many travelers but whoever passed by had an idea or goal in mind. I was welcomed with sorrow and confusion, yet I was warm. I had been sitting at the crossroads inn for a while until someone came along and asked directions from me. They were going where I just came from. I then remembered where I was and why I came. I was searching for myself way out here.
Chapter three. No choices.
I wandered for times and times, I had no goals or searches in mind. I was everything but content with myself. I tried to accept the fact that I have grown and gone and lived through what poisons me. I discovered what potential I do have, yet I never learned how to use it.
Circles, squares and triangles.
I wanted to mark my journey, I think I still do. It's called a tattoo, that will hopefully illustrate my arm and tell a story of where I'm from. I invested more in spirituality, even spiritual ''tools'', just to be accepting, to love myself so that I could love the world. I made no major decisions, I barely made decisions at all, I tried to get by in this wasteland. In the woods I did come by a few shifting figures, I never made much of it, but... it turns out they made much of me.Chapter four. Responsibility and the crash.
I never quite was in peace with myself and they definitely knew. A constant reminder was being repeated from the haze, ''you are not who you think you are, you are who I think you are''. I didn't make much of it, decided that as far as decision making goes I don't need to worry myself with it. The announcer declared that I had no place until I submit. Once again I chose to make no choice, not realizing that this is also choosing. The message was clear and getting louder," I am not me, I simply no longer am." With anxiety and fading wonders I was being directed towards the heart of the storm. Sailors know well that the safest place to be in during a storm is at the middle of it. Unfortunately I'm no sailor and this was definitely not the storm they had in mind. Pushed into this void I realize that making decisions is not that bad after all. I knew that the universe will always accept my choices, my decisions and provide with what I want. Right?
Chapter five. Fire
Time has no real place here, it just simply isn't relevant anymore. I am now a key component in a flame that needs to keep burning. Not sure if I'm oxygen, fuel or warmth, but I'm in this cycle and there's no simple way to escape this without the fire burning out. How do I replace my source, why did I venture this far in the first place? I thought I was looking for myself - if that's true then why have I not found it yet? How do I provide to this flame when it gives me nothing in return apart from the fireplace where I'm ''welcomed'' to stay. The only thing that really burns in these flames in my eyes is the question ''Who, am I?''
