There’s a part of me that fears death in the face of all of my unfinished business.
Life is so fleeting… our moments here are evanescent. I have so many visions in my mind; I don’t want them to be put to sleep before they’ve been realised… to have my ideas martyred at the expense of my idleness… to have them die before ever having lived. More specifically, as an avid writer, I don’t want all of these words to become a memoir of madness (for if madness isn’t the result of such obsessive, chronic chronicling which advances ahead with no purpose or use, then what is…?) Wasted words are one of life’s greatest shames, one I wish to play no part in (but lead the march nonetheless in all of my Words Unspoken and Dear Nobody’s.)
We lose great stories which go by untold every day; whether they’re written in an unseen journal or unwritten and unspoken in the silent mind of an abandoned senior in a care home – these are the lost jewels that we should be seeking to unearth, but perhaps for those treasures that are fated to disappear, we never can. It’s tragic really… but this just makes it even more urgent to try to change, by contributing as much of our selves, our minds and our work as we can.
Our flow will always be prematurely cut off at some point; our hourglass will inevitably be punctured before all our grains of sand are through. But we must try to do as much as we can now, to make sure that the greatness that we hold inside, is manifested in any form, outside.
It is essential to act, act, act – now – so that what we envision to be, WILL come to be. And so with that said, I’ve begun to sail my ship away from voyaging towards lost art, and I’m going to strive to make something of it… Please, in your own way, join me.
“Only put off until tomorrow what you are willing to die having left undone” – Pablo Picasso
Diary of a Deluded Heart
Written: June 23rd 2016
Published: July 26th 2016