you have one day and a blank sheet of paper
nothing more. just that. what will be the first words to conquer your mind at the challenge of that white paper?
I can remember myself at the age of 12, and I can remember myself at the age of 7. But the way I remember the last two years of my life is quite different. As if I started existing at the age of 16 and since then I can't stop. I don't know how such a thing could ever happen, but in all honestly I don't remember those days , I don't remember the way certain ideas blossomed in my head, oddly, it feels like I suddenly woke up one day, and everyhing was there, planted and rooted well, and all I could understand was only the way everyting made me feel. So I sank. And even though all this time I thought I was only thinking, in fact, as it turns out, overthinking every little tormenting detail to the point of distortion, that wasn't the only thing. I felt everything. Everything. Until I was numb, my brain and my will had been sucked dry before they were even given the chance to act at all, and always this mental picture of myself crawled up on a cold naked wooden floor, helpless and most excruciatingly hopeless and weak, would haunt me. And sometimes I would think to myself that for some twisted reason, the "universe", had chosen me to carry the burden of half the world, laughing at the irony of this possibility, because, if that were true, all the forces of the universe were dead wrong to recruit me for this job, as I was dangerously prone to becoming the weakest and most self destructive creature in the whole wide world and during all the centuries. Ultimately, the "universe" and all the astral forces were not wrong. They just changed their names to Luck, leaving me with my jaw on the floor to deal with the reality that everything in our human lives, everything that has happened and is yet to come in my life, is absolutely and positively random.
Two years, the worst years of my life, wasted, lost in the abyss of my pit dark cave of a mind and in fruitless, anxious thoughts about things that I shouldn't have forced into my head until I was at least at the middle of my doomed life.
Two years, that have left me with very real and evident scars, but have taught me not to be ashamed of them. Those two years is all I know. In two years I have lost myself countless times, and found it again and again, I have made mistakes that have propably failed to teach me anything, and even though most of the time I am pushing my mind below the suface of the deep dark ocean, suffocating myself, I know that the waters I am sinking into are the Truth. My truth. And when lucid and, when waving politely at my old friend , Chance, I can say that I am glad for those waters devouring me..