chapter 1?
I write to pour out the passion that has been rapidly circleing inside me. Circleing inside me in a thick grey cloud of smoke that can not be tracked back to. Where did all began? Who began creating the first fresh feeling and desire of knowing who you are and how to heal yourself. Your passion is a part of you, when all other parts are viscious and enveloped in their own war of ambiguity. You are not you. You are not a whole; as you submisselvely walk down the streets of every day life playing the part of your own zeolous of feiry. You fight out of anger, you fight out of love; you fight out of confusion, lust, frustration, sadness and grieving; you fight because you desire an don't desire at the same time; you fight because you want so badly to crawl into a hole and die, but another part of you wants you to live. You fight out of contradiction. Because all life is is a contradiction and you passively mold to the simplicities of the world. You are a contradiction. You are the one who let yourself split in two, because you are the one who allowed the world to mold you. You could not recognize the lies and could not figure out all the wrong ways of dealing you were doing. You had a choice which path you would go down; And down the rabit hole you went.
"But when the rabbit actually took a watch out of its waistcoat pocket, and looked at it, and then hurried on, Alice started to her feet, for it flashed across her mind that she had never before seen a rabbit with either a wasitcoat- pocket or a watch to take out of it, and burning with curiosity, she ran across the field after it, and was just in time to see it pop down a large rabbit hole under the hedge.
In another moment down went Alice after it, never once considering how in the world she was to get out again."
" 'Well!'thought Alice to herself. 'After such a fall as this, I shall think nothing of tumbling down-stairs! How brave they'll all think me at home! Why, I wouldn't say anything about it, even if I fell off the top of the house!'
Down, down, down. Would the fall never come to an end?"
The cloud of smoke cannot continue to make circles inside you. The smoke must stop somewhere if you ever want to get to an end that is different from the beginning. Passion must be let out of you. The cage that you hold cannot contain the monster any longer. The beautiful weopontry of passion must no longer harm yourself. Your monster is your passion, and it doesn't have to be a monster