I Still Love You.

You think yourself not magnificent. Not magnificent enough. You measure yourself to illusions, mirages of what other people want you to see of them. Blind sighted by the sparkling lies that haunt your nights. Those nights that never leave. Never give and never leave. So you grow thin on reasons to continue. The most loyal companion ceases to nourish the unending appetite of the soul. Disappointment lingers, appears, refuses to leave. The reasons become foggy and the explanation holds only for fractions. Admittance breaks the heart of any creator who must face the reality of a dysfunctional muse. You must appear composed as the world around you rearranges into the most unbelievable shape. Here is how it is going to be. You will hold your feet on solid ground as we slip on the bare backs of endless sand dunes, you will watch as magnificence slowly reaches you once again. Somehow this is how you will survive. This is how parts of you will become scattered and grow thin, unassuming roots.   

The cost is too great to imagine. I cannot teach you to fathom the sacrifices, to appreciate the hardship, to empathize with the efforts. Know this, there is a cost. There is great cost in every achievement, may it be regarded as grand by many or may it be only appreciated by a handful. Greatness comes only with distance and time. Aging the idea or writing down the words in a place secluded from the eyes of the world. Do not mind the hurt, do not shun the loneliness. You must walk through fire to purify the soul. You must endure the most fearful highs and dizzying lows. You must bring that which is most precious to you to sacrifice. This is the altar on which you must place your sacrificial offering. Attempt to stay away and the gods of Olympus will keep the amazing nymphs far from the reach of any mortal. Fool yourself, but you may never fool those who sit higher than you. The rules are as such. The rules command you to forsake the comforting and comfortable. The happiness and the happy. The pain is inevitable and you must embrace the idea that it may come to stay. Contentment never propelled any lasting creative effort. It will not help you either.

Compose this letter. Compose it well. Write down the parts that are crucial to you. Do not omit the grievances, do not better the hurt which has befallen you. This is the moment that counts. Here is where we will listen and in the hope that someone will read, here is where we will gather the writings of all others to place upwards, hold in front of the one making decisions on our behalf. If you care to believe. If I care to make you believe. What does it matter? Now is not the time to appear complacent. To give into the shallow, self pitying mood of those around you. Do not doubt yourself. Not yet. At least not yet. This letter, this is what counts now. How horrific the aftermath, how painful the existence in this very moment is, will appear  - you will see – diminished to a mustard seed. For now, hold your weapon of choice and follow me on this journey we have vowed to take together. Those words should ring clear to you: please don’t leave me, please don’t keep me.