Fats The Dragon Bard's blog: "The writings of Fats"

Who are you to guess?  Who are you to assume?  Who are you to say that you know me?  You don’t know what its like to be me.  You don’t know what I see, what I feel, what I hear, what I think.  The mere concept of your ability to understand my situation is simply absurd.  My life is mine.  The day is mine.  This moment is mine.  Should I choose to share it with you?  And even if I do, will it ever truly be ours?  Can two exact thoughts ever simultaneously co-exist?  Are they one and the same?  Could they ever be?

You look at me and see what you want to see; what you are trained to see.  You haven’t been to school to learn this.  No one ever gave you private tutelage on what it is that you’re looking at.  Life has trained you without your knowing…without your consent.  You spark ideas in your head, which become thoughts and then spread like a wildfire through your mind to become fully tangible concepts.  This isn’t enough, however, you then proceed to take these shapes and whittle them down, dropping a detail here, shaving off a spur of individuality there, until you have, sitting in front of you, a neatly polished piece of material that fits snuggly into one of your many pre-programmed, pre-conceived notion boxes.  Then what?  What comes next?  You’ve taken this awe-inspiring pinnacle of individuality and smashed it down.  You’ve taken all that makes it beautiful, rare and unique and rendered it into a meaningless, run of the mill, cookie cutter piece of existence.  You’ve deprived it of all the splendor that made it what it once was…original…free…one. 

Never will this be allowed to happen to me.  You can go right ahead.  Make your molds.  Stack you neatly aligned cubbyholes of being.  Try your best, my friends.  You’ll never be able to contain me.  I will break the very formatting of your mind.  Never will I conform.  Never will I be what you want me to be.  You can go on and perceive me as you will, but know this.  Every time you try and find a place for me to fit.  Every time you try and label me.  Every time you try and mold me to adhere to your standards, it will be a fruitless attempt.  I will surprise you.  I will break your bonds.  I will always be one step ahead of you.

You might ask your self why?  It is quite simple.  I am an individual.  I will never be a mindless automaton that follows your will.  Nothing will ever change me unless it is because I choose to change.  My life will be led as I see fit, as I deem necessary, as I want it.  I am who I am…I am one.

It is now that I can see I am a candle.  My hope is represented by the flame.  It’s been lit for a very specific reason, and was left to burn contently, completely unaware of its imminent demise, circling in around it.  The flame dances and skips about the wick, the object of my affection.

It’s such a beautiful sight, such poetry in motion, the whole time, feeding its own destruction.  As time passes, the flame dwindles a bit.  It no longer burns with such vigor and playfulness, as it once did, however it has settled down into a slow, strong, steady burn of fire, much hotter and focused than before.  As the wick and flame become one, they are woven together with such intensity that the gods themselves would be envious.  It is only now, that the flame realizes the monster it has created.

As it sits, holding onto the wick for dear life, it sees the pool of wax, created by its pure and innocent intentions, swelling in towards to two, with only once purpose in mind…to snuff out that which has disturbed it.  As the flame searches for something to eliminate this predator, it flickers back to life, as if to make one final flare to show its silent assassin that it is no longer afraid of its outcome and it is willing to accept its fate, but not without a fight. 

As the flame is nearly extinguished from this last valiant effort, the wick shines red.  The flame and wick have achieved a complete and wholly unified bond.  At this very moment both the flame and the wick are over taken by the lake of molten wax.  The flame vanishes without a trace and the wax, satisfied that its threat has been eliminated, goes back to hardening.  The wick goes back to a cold, stiff, blackened representation of the beautiful white pillar it once was.

The hope is completely gone…all except for the stream of smoke pillaring from the tip of the wick.  As the ember dies out, the smoke disapates, as does any memory of the gloriousness that once held this location.  All that is left is a pile of mutated wax and a small curly blackened resemblance of what was, at one time…happiness.

It’s sometimes hard, for even the most experienced writers, to find the right words to convey the true essence of what they are feeling, but is that not, in fact, the point of writing at it’s core?  There are many emotions, ideas and random thoughts running rampant in my mind these days.  Perhaps one of the most difficult goals for this piece of works is not the selection of words, but rather the plethora attempts I’ve made toward the correlation and conciseness of that which I’m about to tell you.

You’ve broken all that I held sacred inside.  This much isn’t totally your fault, as I should have known better than to let you in.  You came into my life at a very vulnerable point.  I was shrouded by thoughts of self-worthlessness, pity and despair.  I saw you as a ray of hope in an otherwise inescapable blackened abyss.  I thought my prayers had been answered.  Could this be?  Can this be the sign I’ve been waiting for…a turning point with which to better my life?  Only time could tell.

I held you in my embrace.  All of the darkness lifted from in front of my mind’s eye.  I realized the void in my life had been filled.  I was not only accepted, but I was wanted…sought after.  This was the first misguiding I had overlooked.  You had made me happier than I had ever though possible.  The sheer bliss I felt in your presence was simply indescribable.  For the first time in my life, I felt completely comfortable for being me.  I didn’t need to put on a mask to allow you to see only what I wanted you to see, and for that I am undeniably in your debt. 

As time went on…I developed emotions for you that were completely foreign to me.  This is not to say they were bad, anything but.  I felt, for the first time…ever, love for someone not of blood relation to me.  Oh my god, it was so hard to keep it in.  It finally got to the point that I had to share with you this elation that was swelling up inside of me.

It was then that the bomb hit.  Once I had built up the nerve to share this amazing thing with you, you turned around and threw it back in my face.  Right then and there, you broke me.  There is no language know to man that could have possibly described the raw, unadulterated terror that swept over me at that very moment.  I had hit a new low that I will never forget.

After that, time passed, things changed and I carried on the best I knew how.  I had to constantly adapt to carry this new burden that plagued my soul.  Through much reflection, though, I had pretty come to make peace with everything that had transpired.  It was only recently that I truly figured out what the problem was that was gnawing at the back of my mind.  I wasn’t in love with you at all.  I was in love with the way you made me feel.  This whole time I was dwelling on the specifics and utterly oblivious to the blatant obviousness surrounding me. 

You asked for my forgiveness and that I offer you willingly, because that’s the type of man I am.  You’ve opened my eyes to the world.  I can now, at long last, say that I’m over you…and we’re done.  Thank you.

“No, no, no.  It can’t be morning yet.  I just want five more minutes with her”, he says.  Waking to the sun’s magnificent golden bath of warmth, he rises, listlessly from his bed to greet the day.  This day is not unlike any other, except for the fact that he feels renewed.  Yet another night passes by with him falling asleep by her side and waking up alone.  Is this a sign of what is to come, or is it merely a sorrowful stretch to mask the abrasive truth of his utter solitude in life?  He’s not without friends that welcome him joyfully or a loving family who embrace him wholeheartedly.  He is, however, seeking that most simple of life’s pleasures…her.

What is it about you that keeps me coming back to these thoughts?  I’ve reconciled our departure from each other, and yet, I feel as though I’m lacking something.

I miss the way we could talk for hours about absolutely nothing.

I miss seeing you smile at the sight of me walking up to you.

I miss the way you played with my hair even after I told you it bothered me, because you knew I really loved it.

I miss holding you in my arms.

I miss not caring about anything that happened around us while I was with you.

I miss the smell of your shampoo on my pillow after you left.

I miss getting lost in your eyes for what seemed like an eternity.

I miss arguing about stupid shit that didn’t matter, just so I could kiss you and make you forget why we were arguing.

I miss hugging you around the waist from behind.

I miss going to the mall and getting bored because you insisted we look through every single store.

I miss feeling your head rise and fall on my chest as you laid it there while we watched a movie.

I miss the sheer excitement of know that we were going to spend time together soon.

I miss you bitching about my choice in music, just because you like to get me riled up.

I miss sitting, drinking coffee for hours, merely so we could be together.

I miss your smell.

I miss your touch.

I miss your voice.

I miss…you.

We lie here tonight, side by side, our bodies pressed gently against one and other.  My face inches from yours, inhaling in that sweet slumber you expel with every breath.  I can almost taste the pure splendor of your dreams.  Each flutter of your eyelids, every slight tremor of your muscles, telling a story of utter bliss.

The sensation of your skin touching mine sets my mind ablaze as if it were being hurled into a volcano.  The soft murmur of your voice, so faint as though it had been spoken in another time, rings in my ears and my heart like symphony of angels.  One so glorious that God himself would grasp to comprehend it.  The feeling of absolute euphoria you bring me is unexplainable with mere words.

I have never been so lucid as to who I truly am, as when I find myself next to you.  It is as if I have a complete and total awareness of my very sense of being.  My mind is reeling and yet perfectly fixed at the same time.  This unequivocal presence of happiness coursing throughout my mind, body and soul has rendered me speechless.  When I wake up, I know you’ll be gone, as this is simply a manifestation of anything and everything I could ever hope to find in my life.

This is nothing but a dream, or is it, in fact, a nightmare?

To tear this flesh apart would cause me no pain, compared to that which I felt when you retreated from my life.  To rid these thoughts, plaguing my mind, would bring me nothing but peace.  The moment I realized you would no longer be mine I died inside.  There is no explanation for the descent of my soul, other than that which you offered, kept me afloat.

I find myself sitting restlessly in the dark, amongst the tattered remains of what was once my happiness…a happiness that I offered you.  I gave you my all.  I blissfully waited for you, with arms wide open, as I bore you my soul.  Now, not even with every ounce of my being, can I fill the gapping wound that you left to bleed dry.

So, here I remain, the shell of the man that once was, and is now…silent…alone…gone.  Venomous are these thoughts, which spear their way through the shallow, disease riddled, ruins of that which once represented a peaceful mind. My soul...the shredded, shapeless remnant of what it was before. This body has become a meaningless shell, devoid of purpose, hope and aspiration.

My entire world has been stripped of emotion. I realize that I am now destined to wander this filth-encrusted wasteland...utterly...alone. As, this may have once saddened me; I now see it as the only way. Too many lives have been tainted by the ever plaguing presence that which I have brought upon them. Spoiling their minds with the infectious filth spewing forth from an otherwise, forked tongue. Many have fallen in the wake of pestilence contained here within.

No longer shall I seek the frivolous feeling of acceptance. No longer shall I be bothered by idiotic ruse you've come to call love. The carnivorous retch, festering in my, cold, dead heart has led me astray for the last time. It was written that, "hell hath no fury like a woman scorned". Well I have bittersweet news for you all...hell hath no fury like a man apart!