Slowly a crack appears in your personality and you realize that you are leading two lives. On the surface you smile, make jokes and navigate the pathways of this system we call life. Inside, there is a perpetual storm in progress.
Voices rising from the abysmal depths of your own being, mocking, criticizing and carrying on an endless commentary on what the outside world is thinking of you.
Music helps in quieting these voices or at least drowning them out. The main problem arising from this is that you tend to become self destructive.
In my case this has manifested in a not so harmful way. I am not at immediate risk of finding an entertaining and quick way to end my existence which in a way is good I suppose.
I have been getting calls from various people asking me to play in bands with them and though I accepted a few of these I am always on the verge of calling them up and quitting from the project.
Why? I dont know, I simply find myself stuck on the question "What is the point?".
When do you know that your life is pretty much screwed? The day you wake up and cant find a strong enough reason or will to stand up and live through the day.
I am a huge believer in fantasy and magic and even science fiction but maybe the reason why I like these things is because they are suggestions that maybe there are things out there other than this suffocating monotony of existence. I shall not delve too deep into that line of thought since I dont want to take away three of my four reasons for continuing to breathe.
Sometimes I think that maybe I was never meant to be here to begin with. I have always felt like an outsider. When in school I thought that maybe once I left India I would find my own kind of people, this belief became increased tenfold when I was in college since my life then was so much more crappy. I came to the USA and found no one here even remotely like me, if anything, they were even more removed from me than my countrymen.
Thats when hope died in me that my isolation and misanthropy was caused by simple incompatibility with my immediate neighbors. I fear that it is caused by incompatibility with the race as a whole.
I often tell a few people I talk to that I am a high elf. In almost every tale I have read the high elves have left the land and retreated to their homeland which is hidden from mortal eyes by the strongest magic. I would like to believe this and hope that one day I shall lay my eyes on the golden shores of my homeland.
Almost reminds me of the song from the disney movie Hercules.
I have often dreamed, of a far off place,
where a heroes welcome, is waiting for me
where the crowds will cheer, when they see my face
and a voice will whisper, this is where im meant to be
I'll be there someday
I can go the distance
I will stay my path
I wont accept defeat
I know every mile
will be worth my while
when I go the distance, I'll be right where I belong...
I think I am still capable of a little hope.
Wraith.
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