・My Miserable Story ・

Miserable

This could be a fantasy story; it could be a science fiction, it could be a detective novel or even a story about a dystopian future. However this will only be a miserable story. My miserable story.

A miserable individual is devoid of value and importance. It is the key definition for the word to which I refer, and which refers to me.

Obviously we all have our value and blah blah blah ... But it's not easy to convince yourself of this when the universe makes you small and vulnerable. Among seven billion people, who am I in this world? Who am I to be someone? It is extremely difficult, for someone whose universe has made it so short as it should be, to convince ourselves that we are not small grains of sand living in this huge sandbox that is the planet Earth.

I didn't live long yet. In fact, I lived very little of what one can imagine. But I have read more than the mind of a poor imagination can imagine.
I lived in fantasy lands and post-apocalyptic worlds, but what's so special about it anyway? If in the world of skin, flesh and bone; stone, cement and iron; asphalt, earth and sand; If in this real raw world I just know nothing?

I have lived nothing; still. And I will live? I know nothing. I am nothing.

So many diverse worlds, so many universes I've been through reading, have given me the incredible desire and passion for writing. Once you are connected to what you are writing, you travel within and find yourself there.

Your mind is an empty room for now. You see yourself looking at a huge bookshelf for something. What will it be? A new word, a synonym for another one you just used?

"I found!" You scream as you find among all those books full of floating words. "It was the missing word." And you return to the sheet that was hitherto standing at the end of that sentence. The worn-out sharpened pencil soon positions and traces in a disproportionate crooked handwriting.

Yes, the handwriting is terrible. Any other poor soul who wished to read this might think it is a riddle written in an unknown alphabet. But it doesn't matter. The handwriting does not matter to the machine that you are typing. Everything in the end is almost the same, regardless of who handles the keyboard.

Imagination is the limit, but we always have this desire to visualize our most impossible adventures. That's when I started drawing.
Initially they were just scribbles like all other typical of young children. And in fact, I like to make it clear that I don't believe in talent. Practice is the only way to get what you want, and I very much wished I could see with my own eyes what my heart created.

Some say my passion is to draw. Whoever says this probably has no idea how much my heart goes into writing.
Writing is creating a work of art with words just as drawing is making words a visual form. My heart is only complete with both, and although they are complete within my being, they are completely different from each other for me.

To draw is to visually show what my mind wants to represent. Writing is handing out the words that come straight out of my heart.