Young Writers Society

This wont make much sense, but its sort of a trail of thought in my brain. It needs work, but I need to do something with it to move forward with it, or rather decide of I want to. It isn't anything, just strings of words.

Here you are in front of this page that you love but hate so much.

You're here with stories of wars and doors and chairs that are sat on by drug dealers and torturers. They stay in the dark but come out to taunt you.

You want to run, but you want to stay, because there's the door and the chair in a dark corner and they hold a promise. They hold the key to your inquisition and you want to be here so badly, but you want to be part of the darkness.

You want to play . . . you want to see if you can make it or be broken and tortured and probably brought back to this door with a game show host and a pale blue room behind it, everything that annoys you and attracts you at the same time.

And it goes on and on until you just decide to stand between the door and the darkness and you're left with the dissatisfaction of not knowing what you want and where you're supposed to be and what you're supposed to do.

You're stuck . . . but you're not . . . because you can move through all these things, but whatever you do, whether you fall and are tortured by the drug dealers, or make it and become one of them you're still stuck, lying in the darkness dead or sitting on the chair waiting for something from the door that just doesn't fit in this scene at all.

If you followed it all closely maybe you'd know. But whether you know what's going on or not, either way you're still stuck, and would knowing all of this help you anyway? If you didn't you'd be running through all these phases having the exact same thing happening to you over and over and over again even if you knew. So does it really matter?

Does it matter that you count the experiences that you've had in your dreams as real experience? Does it matter that you hold so much promise in something that you can't attach senses to? Does it really matter that you have scars that you could've avoided, scars that you were warned about but went ahead anyway? Does it matter that everything you hate or hold against yourself is the exact thing that'll get you everything thing you think you can get through all the things that'll ultimately destroy you?

No. It doesn't matter. It won't matter for now. What matters more is your concern for it not mattering and so much complexity over a door and a chair and dark corners and drug dealers and darkness.

What matters more is the dire need to draw as much as you can out of stupid thoughts in your mind, because everything that you once thirsted for doesn't quench the thirst you have now.

And now you're thirsty, so thirsty. Thirsty to throw yourself into a darkness and hope and pray that it'll somehow change the way you are now, somehow affect you enough to look at this differently . . . God forbid, that it'll inspire you.

But,

Is there enough thirst? Are you willing to break out of this mediocre state you live in and actually do it? To throw yourself at the next promise of a racing heart or change of scenery? To not stay in the safe haven we've found so many demons in? To betray the people we would lay our lives down for, the same people that have torn us to shreds?

No. For now you'll run in circles and repeat repeat repeat, and stupidly and ignorantly wait for something to change it.

It's funny.

It's funny how we can't pull things out of the doors in dark corners like we used to.