I invested countless moons delving into academic pursuits, yearning to attain an erudite status and unravel the enigmas of our magnificent world. Yet, alas, I was refused entry into the hallowed halls of academia, leaving me no choice but to make do with an entry-level position. The bewilderment and perplexity from my unexpected situation which consumed me were so great that it seemed like a surreal, unfeasible reality.
But in recent years, thanks to the benefit of a newfound shade, I’ve honed the art of weaving words into sentences. I retreat under the gentle luminescence of the moon, and with every stroke of the pen, I emerge from the depths of my mind’s eye. The shroud of obscurity that envelops me never succeeds in holding me captive, for my creative spirit yearns to break free and soar to boundless heights.
My madness, if that is what it be, lies in this very method – to cling on to a glimmer of hope amidst the somber tides that sweep over me. Though my dexterity with words may seem impressive, I often struggle to convey the depths of my emotions. But despite this, I persist in seeking refuge in the wisdom of the ages, hoping to extract a grain of truth to hold on to, like a precious gem that shines even in the darkest nights.
Still even in the comfort of my forever home and in the embrace of my soul mate, my mind is often consumed by memories long past their prime. They may be stale and musty, but they are all I have to cling to, like a lifeline to a time best left forgotten. At times I feel I am but a mere shell of my former self, battered and bruised by life’s unyielding blows. Yet, I refuse to concede defeat.
For in the madness of my method, I find a spark of hope that refuses to be snuffed out. So, I soldier on, determined to carve out a new path for myself, as I’ve not yet succumbed to the abyss of madness. If the Divine Mind has it within their infinite Wisdom and Grace, may I yet prevail over the demons of Sin and Decadence until my dying day.
