Someone made this comment the other day, after reading a bit of my writing:
“That sounds like a lot of overdramatic bullshit.”
Well.
Yes.
It is.
It’s a truism I’ve been accused of before. In fact, there are time I read my own writings and think, “Who could actually buy into all this?”
I do.
I actually believe in what I write. I believe, with hunger and intent, that I create those moments where reality conforms to the dark places I conjure with my words. Where the ruined cities and dark forests of my mind take on form. And knowledge supplants belief, for I have lived, over and over again, those moments. I have seen the manifestation of my hungers in the eyes of another.
My writing is an extension of my thoughts and desires – not the genesis of them. Do not be fooled by my overly-honed sense of the dramatic. That is simply an indulgence of mine, and not indicative of the solidity of the truth it harbors. The colorful dressing for a beautiful and horrible thing.
[audio:Djaevle_Life2.mp3]
D’jaevle, Life