2004-03-08
Perpetual Pain
When will you understand that I have nothing else to give?
When will you understand that I am tired, and the only thing I want is rest...from myself. I need rest from this desire and this hope that refuses to die.
Would it be easier if I were not human?
Or would it be easier if I were dead? Why do I have to fight, if I am tired? Why must I try stop time if I have already drunk half of the poison?
I am a writer...that is all. I write, and I feel, and I write once more. I couldn't write if I were not able to feel...
What makes me a decent writer is the fact that I feel too much, too often, too soon. Pain for me is different, because it opens up my eyes to life, and what it really is.
I become scared, and I wake up in the middle of the night only to be cloaked by darkness and the blankets wrapped around me.
I would wander like a ghost--unseen, unheard, unspoken of.
Ghosts do not love, and they are not loved...but they did love once, and love is what ultimately killed them. Slowly, it sucked the color, their flesh, and lastly, their life...leaving only a transparent soul of pain.
So wail when the clock strikes midnight...but what if I'm tired? What if wailing doesn't do it anymore? I need more, but I can't say what it is...I need to die.
Seventeen and dead...does that sound shocking? Seventeen years of misery, seventeen years of living in a world of illusion where everything is transitory and untemporary.
But there were years of joy...two, perhaps...but they were there, and their memory stays with me.
I wrote, and I went fishing with Paul, and I was innocent--untouched by pain...untouched by time.
"My name is Asher Lev..." and I paint, and I love what I do, except that I am not Asher...I just write. I write now, and I will write tomorrow, and I will write until the last breath escapes from my lips. I feel trapped once more, but my question is--can I get out of this one? Or will I really do it this time?
My dear readers, you are the lucky ones, for only you will enjoy reading the lustrous words that come from my pain. If I should suffer so that someone else may feel inspired, then I have fulfilled my purpose...and I know that I should not die just yet.