RosyUnicorn

After little convincing from a dear friend, I ended up on Actualized. I have yet to fully open up to the ideas flourishing here, but after reading his introduction to his journal, I can't help but feeling inspired. Every story starts with a single letter, and this letter will fundamentally change the story. So as with any good story, I'll start right at the beginning. I hope it will bring you as much excitement as it has brought me, and in the end you the reader, will endear me with your eyes. For is the point of life not to touch others? I was a bright kid. Whilst fumbling around inside my head, I sometimes play with the thought of hooking up with my younger self; the pure view on a world in utter turmoil. I could spend hours observing ants during their daily routine in the playground, adding various forms of stimuli in attempts to change obvious patterns. The most exciting times where during august when larva's where abundant in a certain type of bush, and I could be found running back and forth to grab a few, and watch what happened if I pitted them against ants. Whilst cruel in a way, I was convinced that the nature of things is that some things eat, and some things are eaten, and ants somehow embodied a pinnacle in nature. Looking back I'm sure it was an expression of confusion. The Kuwait war was raging, and I think Iran was doing silly things to their neighbors, and my dad was struggling to explain the concept of war. Violence crept into my drawings, and my grades where suffering. School was failing me fundamentally, and my parents where not aware of how much I suffered from the boredom caused by social constructs. I always saw the benefits of maths, I just did not see the point to learn something I already got the point with. Why does 1 +1 equal 2? I know what 2 is, and that 1 is a 1. Why though? Why does anybody care? It was apparent that my teachers where no smarter than my parents, so why spend any times on vile women who's withered away? Surely there's a reasoning why we've decided that 1 is the embodiment of one? When I was 11 we where having a special swedish class. This day we where not gonna fill in stencils. Today we where going to write whatever we wanted. At this point I still didn't know the alphabet, and hadn't really written anything at all. I raised my hand after the teacher had given us the assignment, and she came over. "What do you mean "anything I like?"" I asked her with big eyes. "You can write anything you want!" I pondered it for a moment. "So I can write about a T-rex with wings and lazers?" She laughed thinking me a silly child. "Haha yes, anything you want!" I fell silent, and just stared at the paper. I grabbed my penn, and I wrote my first story. This was the first time I felt the spark. I was set alight, and I felt how scorched my spirit. I drew, I wrote I painted. I made new games for my friends to play, and everyday became a struggle to push my reality onto reality itself. "I reject reality, and substitute my own". Fast forwards in my life, and shit went down. Bullying during my teens, mental torment from mother and stepdad, fleeing over a weekend from mental abuse. A father who no longer recognized his son, and a brother who was broken beyond repair. A school system who continued to stifle, and let me down. Girlfriends who took without giving, and a flame who had gotten out of control; it consumed every bit of energy I had. A reckless zombie stumbling around in my early 20ies without direction, aim or goal. I had stopped writing, and the thought of creation made me sick to my stomach. Self esteem of old was blown out the window, and I kept trying to fit into the role that the ones before had decided I should fill. Get a job. And jobs I did get, and jobs I did lose. I fought with bosses, colleagues, family members, girlfriends and myself. Blow for blow I tried to match life, and I felt myself slipping. And then it happened. I hit rock bottom. The climb up has lasted for about 2 years now. I decided that I would not have sex. I would not even attempt love until I had found ways of loving myself, and my life. I realized that I have studied to become a writer. That I consider my stories of more value to the world and to myself, than any amount of money I could ever assemble. I realized the system is built around the notion we are going to live forever. That I am a human, and my value cannot be measured in money, but as a resource for humanity itself. I realized that I am going to die. I am going to leave something behind. Fuck the benefits I'm on, so many are without a job anyway so they can do that if they feel like it. Fuck the debt I'm in, I'll managed. Fuck politics, they've been at it since Rome. Fuck the toxic ones. Purpose, pride and hard work is what I crave. I'm done believing "you can't change the world". I will change the world. You can't avoid the butterfly effect; like gravity it pushes and pulls. It brings things in order, and it flings universes into black holes. So many have told me to be careful, and how dreams can land you crashing into the earth. My decision has been made then. I shall ignite, and if I one day fall, you shall not see a bird flailing helplessly from the sky. I shall be like a shooting star, screaming across the sky, and as I slam into the ground, I erupt in glorious combustion. The embers shall scorch the earth, and all that believe shall remember me, one of many that dedicated their lives to something better, something pure. Surely then I will have proven my worth. That said, what I am gunning for is a sweet office, and and a bunch of released books, and hopefully a universe that is big enough to challenge Lord of the Rings. Not because I want to be great, but because I want to inspire and challenge. My part in this is minuscule in comparison to the effect I hope that follows. But that is a story for the first proper journal update. I hope this to be sporadically updated journal will help you in various way. Until next time!