They Deserve This
“pictures say with sight, what we can’t say with words. You’ve been walking eyes to feet, with dark sunglasses.”
- Incubus, “Look Alive”
Words are so often inadequate. There are so many reasons that words are never enough. So why then have I chosen to tell my stories through words?
The truth is, I’ve never had a choice. I wish I did. I can hardly work with words anymore. To get the moments in my mind into words is like ripping them through my eyeballs or something. I know, mouth would have made more sense, but eyeballs is more accurate. Besides, the eyes are closer to the brain, and it sounds rather more gruesome. It has that “gross-out” factor; it has that “shock” value. Yet, is that the best way? Who am I to say, I’m hardly a writer. And further, I’m certainly not a good writer.
Yet, I live with these characters in my head, begging for their story to be told. No, I don’t hear voices. You’re getting me all wrong, just listen. I mean, just read. I live with these characters in my head. Four in particular. I know they have interesting stories. I know I can use them to say so much. They’re practically real to me, I see them in my minds eye. That’s my imagination, not a hallucination. I’m not on drugs either, now could you please pay attention? I have these four characters, and they won’t go away. All four of them have distinct emotions, personalities, body language, laughs and smiles, tears and screams. The problem is, I don’t know what made them the way they are. It’s like I just met these people one day, and they’re complete human beings with pasts and futures that are entirely separate from me and out of my control. The problem is, they are entirely in my control. In fact, without me they don’t exist. Yes, that’s right, these people aren’t even based off people I know. Okay, maybe they reflect me some. Well of course they have reflections of me, I bore them in my mind. Now please, with the digressions, this is about them. Okay, okay, the point.
The point is, I don’t know their story yet, but they haunt me. I feel in my entire being that their story should be told. It can change lives. I can change lives with their story. How do I know that when I don’t know their story? Clearly I have no idea. But I have to give in eventually and give them life. They’ve had their moments. Each have had their moments. Their paragraphs. Its not enough, they’re too brilliant and beautiful to be captured just in those moments, and yet I don’t know anything more than those moments.
So, I’ve been hiding these characters behind my eyes, I’ve been hiding their beauty because I don’t know their story. Well, clearly I have to give it to them. Words may not do them justice, but I certainly can’t paint you a picture, so now I try to lift my head and let you see passed my eyes and get in my mind. No, not in my mind, into their lives. The ones I have to create.
- Incubus, “Look Alive”
Words are so often inadequate. There are so many reasons that words are never enough. So why then have I chosen to tell my stories through words?
The truth is, I’ve never had a choice. I wish I did. I can hardly work with words anymore. To get the moments in my mind into words is like ripping them through my eyeballs or something. I know, mouth would have made more sense, but eyeballs is more accurate. Besides, the eyes are closer to the brain, and it sounds rather more gruesome. It has that “gross-out” factor; it has that “shock” value. Yet, is that the best way? Who am I to say, I’m hardly a writer. And further, I’m certainly not a good writer.
Yet, I live with these characters in my head, begging for their story to be told. No, I don’t hear voices. You’re getting me all wrong, just listen. I mean, just read. I live with these characters in my head. Four in particular. I know they have interesting stories. I know I can use them to say so much. They’re practically real to me, I see them in my minds eye. That’s my imagination, not a hallucination. I’m not on drugs either, now could you please pay attention? I have these four characters, and they won’t go away. All four of them have distinct emotions, personalities, body language, laughs and smiles, tears and screams. The problem is, I don’t know what made them the way they are. It’s like I just met these people one day, and they’re complete human beings with pasts and futures that are entirely separate from me and out of my control. The problem is, they are entirely in my control. In fact, without me they don’t exist. Yes, that’s right, these people aren’t even based off people I know. Okay, maybe they reflect me some. Well of course they have reflections of me, I bore them in my mind. Now please, with the digressions, this is about them. Okay, okay, the point.
The point is, I don’t know their story yet, but they haunt me. I feel in my entire being that their story should be told. It can change lives. I can change lives with their story. How do I know that when I don’t know their story? Clearly I have no idea. But I have to give in eventually and give them life. They’ve had their moments. Each have had their moments. Their paragraphs. Its not enough, they’re too brilliant and beautiful to be captured just in those moments, and yet I don’t know anything more than those moments.
So, I’ve been hiding these characters behind my eyes, I’ve been hiding their beauty because I don’t know their story. Well, clearly I have to give it to them. Words may not do them justice, but I certainly can’t paint you a picture, so now I try to lift my head and let you see passed my eyes and get in my mind. No, not in my mind, into their lives. The ones I have to create.