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Resplendent Files (No. 4)

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--Resplendent Files Article 1--

I was the only kid getting out of high school who hadn't been accepted by a college. I was the only kid whose parents escaped life early. I was the only kid whose name no one could remember. I was the only kid who never lived as a kid.

Something told me I was going to amount to nothing, not from my own choices, but from the choices set before me. Whenever I would say unnecessary, depressing things when hanging around with the ones I called "friends", they would call me out and say:

"Hey man! Live life! Stop worrying yourself so much."

The more they said live life, the more I disliked it. Was "live life" just an ironic statement? When live life is put in that structure, live means to enjoy. Live is to get the most out of when in this phrase. Life was a sorry excuse to what you expected it to be when you were a child, so how can you get the best out of something that gets progressively worse as you grow?

My mother left the home to me when she had killed herself, but I had sold it to travel around the states at some point. I rented out an apartment near the high school I was in for my last few years as a student. Sometimes the best thing is to escape. Maybe my parents had the right idea. Sometimes escape was medicine, like mother's.

I noticed something while on my road trip. The world is a fasciniting place after seeing it, and I mean really seeing it. Things like trees, grass, clouds, they all just became more important to me after taking the time to forget everything. My head was probably filled with so much stress at the time. Maybe all I needed to do was make some room for other things to fit in.

I've never seen anything so beautiful before. The perfect colours of the plants, the massive sizes of the clouds, the unbelievable things God has created. Where does He get these ideas? What mindset did it take to create something so perfect?

Why did sin have to screw it up?

On my trip, I also noticed what made the world not worth living in. Humans were sickening. If America wasn't what it was now, they would be tripping in their own feces. Even now they are slipping on it. Sin may have caused them to become dumb and incapable of good, but they allow themselves to enjoy the sin of their everyday lives. They enjoy drugs, gambling, and pornography. Live life, live drugs to the best of, live gambling to the best of, live pornography to the best of. So what's more important, life or living?

Living is instantaneous gratification, life is prolonged satisfaction or dissatisfaction. That's where people become afraid. When living, people want to be instantly gratified. It doesn't matter if in the end they become empty inside, so long as the next time they hit up on something or climax it's a high. Nothing really matters in between them. Whatever is stuck between two high points aren't worth it.

Life is long. Even if you die at 30 years, it's still quite long, no matter how you put it. Life consists of highs and lows. Sometimes to get a great high you need to enter low after low after low after low. You get to the point where things just seem grim. But that is also living, isn't it? If we look at living as to the best of, that doesn't entirely mean that it's the best of the good, it can mean the best of the bad as well. Sometimes to live the best things in life, people need to live the worst things life throws at them.

Seeing people leave life only to escape into living a life of instant gratification is saddening. Why don't people ever wanna go through life? Why is living more important to them? Living isn't entirely bad, it's part of life, but it's easier to live in bad things than it is to live in good things.

Live life. Why can't I live life. Am I living wrong? Am I getting the best of the good, or the best of the bad? Maybe I'm just not living. Maybe I'm a shell, a husk blowing through the winds. I'm being pushed around. I'm not producing, I'm just consuming. I'm not myself.

So who am I?

--Excerpt from Resplendent File Article 1

I think that's a question everyone has asked once or twice around. Who am I? Pretty hard question to answer. It asks you to really just look at yourself.

I used to be up all night wondering what my answer to this question would be. I probably spent about a hundred some odd dollars buying myself new mirrors. Maybe another hundred for the stitches in my knuckles. You know I wouldn't even think when I stood at the mirror, I'd just look at myself, my face.

I saw nothing. I had no face. You know why I say that? Well I mean, what is there to see that I haven't seen before. It's just me, nothing exciting or amazing about it.

I wonder if I'm depressed. Only a depressed person would say something so, well, depressing. How can I be depressed? I'm the one who cracks jokes when I'm hanging with a group of friends, it's easy for me to talk to people whom I've never met before, and in all my college courses, I speak up the most. How in the world could I be depressed? Who am I kidding, I still stand in front of my mirror, watching myself stare at me from somewhere else.

I'm probably that one friend that people say has too many masks. It's probably obvious that I'm depressed, considering I'm always diverting attention away from me, or just not being serious. Well, I'm serious now. What's so different about typing and talking?

Everything.

What masks do I own? Funny, suave, dumb, happy, chill, ignorant? Heck, I feel like I'd need to call a friend to know. What would I use them for? What do I have to hide? Aren't I a simple person? Sure, I'm a simple person, living a not so simple life. Maybe they aren't masks, but shields.

Well then what am I shielding from, depression? Can't be that. Depression probably made me create these shields. Maybe just everything terrible in my life. Maybe I'm living life the wrong way.


Well, I'm to tired of thinking about my inner being. It's Halloween, I'm gonna go party now. Club Dawn calls me, even if it is hit by drugs I'm going.



Woops, left this open.

Guess what? I suppose Carolyn wanted to hang with a couple of her old friends this evening because she was there. Out of all the clubs in the city, why did she have to show up at C.D.?

I so wanted to walk up and talk to her, you don't know how much my body said to walk up and just say hi. Why didn't I walk up and say something? Damnit! I could have fixed everything! What in the world. Why is it so hard to talk to her. I just wanna hear her voice, a nice soft hi and maybe a smile. Whenever I looked at her my whole body sank into Hell just as much as it rose up to Heaven. I need her in my life but I don't know how to get her back and keep her in it.

What do I say to her? Maybe I'll just call her. Maybe she will tell me she is in town and wants to hang? That's probably the best, then I know she wants to see me.

No, I can't do that. I need to walk up to her and be a man, a man she wants. It's been so long a phone call won't do. We need to look into each other's eyes, after so long I bet that will rekindle something.

Awe, but what if I screw up and say something wrong? What do I do? Should I use one of those shields? Funny, suave, dumb, happy, chill, ignorant? None of those will do, being funny is too friendly. Being suave is too awkward. Being dumb is also too friendly, and stupid. Being happy seems too satisfied with the way things are. Being chill makes it feel like I don't wanna be around her, and I don't want her to think that. Being ignorant is also stupid. What do I do?

Goodness, what if her friends get in the way? What If she ignores me, Hell, what if she just looks at me and says one word, then turns and runs away. Why couldn't she have just stayed with me. Why did I have to screw up.

Wait, what if she wants me to make a move? What if she wants me to go up to her and just ask for her back. No, no, it can't be, that's like an ultimatum. There can't be an ultimatum after something has ended. Unless that's the point, she wants me to see what life is like without her. That's about the meanest thing anyone could possibly do. Make someone feel empty just to make them remember what's important. Maybe it's not mean, maybe it's just effective.

I left early, why did I do that! I gotta go back!


-Nameless

10/31/11


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Resplendent Files (No. 3)

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Resplendent Files (No. 5)

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