I know it’s over
And it never really began
But in my heart it was so real
Therapy session 413.
We all have a story right? Some kind of back story that is an accumulation of all that we have experienced and has paved the way for who we are in the present. They give us our memories and we’re able to act based upon how things have gone for us before. We have a continuous story from when we’re born to now and it plays like a film with low points and high points, successes and failures. Well what is my story?
It feels like I don’t have one. I feel like I’m just a minor character in somebody else’s story. In a novel sometimes the viewpoint of a minor character shows us a few scenes away from the main characters to show some other side of the overall plot. I feel like one of these minor viewpoint characters and I’ve reached the end of my little story arc and have no further part to play in the main story. In a way this gives me a scary sense of freedom since the creator of this story seems to let me continue to exist despite not having any further purpose. Maybe I can move off and create a spin off story and exist all on my own. But it doesn’t feel like I can as I’m still anchored in the pages of the main story and characters cannot just pull themselves away from pages. We’re stuck in the stories we’re in. Or so it feels.
If I was to write the entirety of what I think is my back story then it would basically show conclusively that I am nowhere near the star of my own show. Chapters and chapters would be dominated by the viewpoints of the main characters where I am not even around at all but instead I’m off page probably in some pub somewhere doing nothing significant. And yet this is supposedly my story. If the main viewpoint characters in my story were asked about their own back stories then I would barely feature. I’m just a background character there to give my few lines of dialogue every now and then. I’d get a few pages maybe if I’m lucky. And then on with the main plot.
It’s strange to think this way and I’ve tried very hard to re-wire the absolute mess of chemicals in my brain that have enslaved me. I want to break away and have my real own story where the current main characters are just minor background characters that have no real influence over my thoughts or my life or my plot. It’s so difficult for me to do though. I guess I’m obsessive. Sometimes I just love a mystery and absolutely need to figure it all out and cannot walk away until I’m satisfied. Sometimes I feel that having invested so much time and energy into the story of others I cannot just walk away from it all like it was nothing. No matter what I ever do from this point forward I’ve spent too long in the story of others and have been corrupted by it. Decisions I’ve made were based on this story at times. I feel like I’ve totally betrayed myself. Yet I didn’t really have much choice neither. It’s always been difficult for me to branch out and do my own thing since I lack determination at times and have no will power. I end up following the dreams of others rather than my own dreams. I follow rather than walk my own path. My own path seems so lonely and difficult that it’s easier to just follow what others do and stay in their story. I’m somebody’s friend. I’m somebody’s co-worker. I’m somebody’s family member. I’m a minor character. And who am I really and what am I about? I’m nobody and I’m not about anything.
Well I’m tired of it. To quit the main plot gives me temporarily no purpose at all and literally nothing interesting to think about or solve. Can a minor character even truly break away from the magnetism and aura of the main characters? If the main characters need help do I not just exist to guide these characters along their journey? How will I ever disobey what I feel programmed to do? And why am I on the wrong side in this story? I feel like I should be on the side of the good guys yet it’s a grey world and though we’re all morally ambiguous at times I feel like the characters that have allowed me to be a small part in their story are pretty evil and heartless. For some reason the villain in the story has been able to fool everyone into believing they’re righteous. And there’s an army of minor characters that are hoping to play a bigger role. Do I want a bigger role in this story? Truly no. I don’t want to be in it at all. If I had one wish it would be to have never been a character in this story in the first place. Go back in time and nip it in the bud quickly and leave it. I wish to go back to earlier chapters and erase what my character did and said. And felt. I wish to have been able to see the beauty in other minor characters through-out my little subplot along my little story arc. But some characters have this powerful arcane and dark magic and they’re able to cause massive disturbances in the lives of others. There’s nothing good about them. A narcissist cannot give any kind of resolution to anybody and they definitely can’t make themselves happy either. All of the main characters in the story believe that they are the story. Others fuel this because they’re all blind to the truth and get caught up in the mysteries and darkness and feel like they can elevate themselves along side these main characters and have a life just as full of drama and excitement. Fuck that.
This is what the truth is. Nobody is special. Fuck your story. It isn’t half as interesting as you think. You think you have answers? You fucking stupid cunt. You elevate your own image in your own eyes to the point where the only way you can go is down as you fall crashing back down to Earth. Beauty fades and energy wanes as time goes on. Illusions reveal themselves to those who pay attention. Today’s drama is just another snippet of dialogue in distant future scenes and it’ll get the same kind of attention as the day’s football results. These characters believe their own hype far too much and I’m so disappointed that I ever believed in this lame crap too.
Thoughts, feelings, dreams, songs, poems, nightmares, social media updates over years, art, philosophy, films, writings, sharing many scenes, a god who thinks he’s funny and likes to torment me…all of these things combine to show how much of a joke the whole thing is. There is no justice. But I’ve punished myself mentally for so long. I can’t forgive myself for my own mistakes but I guess I need to try to. I know that every now and then the pain re-surfaces and it’s because I go looking for it. I re-remember everything and every fucked up emotion I’ve ever felt weighs me down again until moving off these pages seems impossible. It’s like I need to keep reminding myself how stupid I’ve been. I’ve been to some dark places mentally. These words are not even a promise to myself that I’ll change as I know that for a long time scenes will continue to loop over in my mind late at night and there’s nothing for it other than another beer and a hope that one day I will have some hope again. I did feel peace for a while. And then I lost it again. The only thing that changed was my own ability to accept everything that had ever happened and let it all just be. See, I understand that our own thoughts create our own world and my own mind can write it’s own story independent of the past. I understand it and I accept it. Obviously I will carry on with my quest to be the star of my own show. Where I feel kind of anchored in my own world with my own set of characters and my own totally unique story arc that will begin, have a middle and some kind of resolution. We all need control over our lives and it is a terrible idea to ever let anybody else have control or too much influence. I need to break free of these shackles. I once talked about a metaphorical box where we can lock memories inside and forget them by burying it deep down into our subconscious mind. I think I accidentally shut myself inside the bastard and buried my own damn self. I talk about freedom a lot because “my fences are found inside of my head ’till I put these words in this rhythm”.
That’ll do. I know much of what I just wrote probably makes no sense but thoughts aren’t easy to process sometimes. It’s easy when you’re writing to persuade someone of something. But when you’re trying to persuade yourself it gets messy. I’ll sign off by raising a can of Carling with a wish for new stories. I’m a stupid pawn in a stupid game of chess where a stupid asshole is moving me round the board. But there’s still a chance to get to the other side and become something new. Much love to every person who’s ever felt like a minor character. And fuck you to the major characters with your narcissistic stories. Fuck you