A letter to my friend:

My hands shake as I write these words.

Had I one wish to squander on the consequences of the choices that you have made, it would surely glorify the concepts that have, as of late, left me speechless. Now, joined in my thoughts by the very thing that you believe to have pursued for so very, very long, I believe that I see you – not the parts of you – ripped from your soul and raped by stale promises of something real. Yet – it is you, the beautiful source of the last glimmer of hope, however corrupted, that grants you permission to continue living.

I am at peace.

I know that you do not see it, but as one of many that listens rather than hearing, and listens to you rather than listening to your words, please try to at least hear my words: I cannot help your reflection, and this brings me peace. By virtue of the fact that in your quest for something genuine you have brought true peace to the turbulence that is my worry, I know that in one way or another, you will find peace as well.

I know this because your obsession with the genuine is perverted. Know me well when I say that were your obsession genuine, you would be dead. Your desire longs for the past, your hope blindly scrambles towards the future; and you feel as though you are encaged in limbo – worse, you relish in the comfort of the certainty of nothingness.

You are not depressed, you are abject.

Do not mistake me – I feel no pity for you anymore. To do so would only be rubbing lye in an open, festering wound, embodying the most absurd kinds of stupidity and shortsightedness. The untrained eye would see my words as generically negative or dark. But my one wish – it is that you see here the reality you’ve been usurped of for so long. Your life is not “too real,” propagating this belief is a pointless perseverance, as if you were trying to fill a bucket with air. Believe me when I say that it is and has been already full. What you will find inside is nothing special, inspiring, euphoric, hopeless, painful, or bitter unless you want it to be. It is life, and it is real enough to last a lifetime.

One day when I myself can look in the mirror and truly see myself rather than what I want to become, I will come back to where I started. I cannot lie – I hope that I never have to summon that much courage, as I am truly afraid of what I’ll see. But in the event that you are still at the bottom, chained with iron shackles to the cold, dirty rock wall, I will, somehow, find a way to have you show yourself how you do not need those shadow puppets anymore.

Until then, I remain your most loyal catalyst,

Charlie Gibbs

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~ by cptgibbs on February 15, 2010.

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