To walk down the mountain

I am aware that I walk a road that is very strange to understand but you have to understand that the road began with a lot of misery. Instead of being happy with the choice to believe in the structure of society, I was more happy to throw it all away and fight against it. Instead of a place, a person and a life who offered me security, I believed emptiness and suffering and futility were gateways to greater things. If you would say that It seems that I have no willpower, I would not argue with you because I loved the weakening of my walls to let love throw me of guard. And with my actions, I ventured further and further away from human pleasures that were easy accessible. Life was giving me all of these opportunities and for some reason I could not accept them because I kept dreaming of something that did not exist. untill it did.

Life was never somebody who gave me presents that were enough to satisfy me. He often gave me attention and care but instead of taking his presents and satisfy myself with my surroundings, i focused on adventures or possibilities that were not possible. I asked too much of my environments, putting a strain on them and they began to get bored of me, or confusingly they would see me as a young boy who wanted nothing than to be a mystery, someone who always wanted to find the extreme measures by which a heart can distinguish itself but who was not genuine or sympathetic. 

Every environment is limited in the resources that they have available for you. I didn't accept that and I wanted more pain, more awareness, more feelings. Eventually, this escalated to the point that I was devastated and heartbroken because I could not get my desires. I grew afraid of the world because they believed in limitation and I locked myself up in my room. I would blame people for not opening their hearts, I would hate my family members, I would forget about happiness and suicidal thoughts found me. I knew that I would never take my own life but I grew tired of trying to live in a world where my needs were not met. I tried too many times and now it was time to let go. Society pushed me away and the road called me. I didn't care if I had succes or failure, I only focused now on my own needs which were pretty easy: I wanted to learn how to let go of everything and I wanted to celebrate the futility of my own existence. Even though i didn't expect that i would live to see how much futily I actually had. 

But something unexpected happend. A last hope inside of me came up with an impossible idea to make live meaningfull. And out of desperation I wrote this last hope down.

I wrote down that I absolutely, without a doubt, wanted to find three girls. It was very necessary that I needed to find them because these girls were my ticket to life. If I managed to find them, I promised, I would have faith in my environments again and I would be thankful for every gift that crossed my path. So I began looking for them. This was my ultimate love letter to the world.  A true love, a princess and a queen. Three titles, three womanly figures, three chances to submit to the presents that life brings us. But I didn't know that my journey would lead me to understand my desire for unnecessary display of character and step by step, i taught myself how to adapt to the limited resources while awkwardly, becoming more aware of myself and accepting my own futility. 

The road adopted me for the years to come and I noticed happily that my needs were met. I learned with every step to let go and my finite existence was wonderfully celebrated. My search for the three girls was also underway: I had written hundreds of poems for any type of girl, boy or child. The more poems I wrote, the more I found generosity and kindness for my choice to follow the path of letting go and the people seemed unexpectedly happy to celebrate the smallest bittersweet finite moment with me and help me find the three girls; I did not ask for directions, nor did I explain what I was looking for because it seemed to me not a thing to tell, but I observed how humanity could write their own story and could find meaning in that. The process in which I would scrutinize and dissect my daily choices gave me insight in the wonderful world of thinking and how thoughts often were your own worst enemy. I began to pay attention to the instinctual habits my thoughts would have and wonder if they were coming from thoughtpatterns that were aligned with my fairytale. And I found out that most of them were not. Most of them dealt with death and insanity and hatred and so on, thoughts that spun into feelings that often kept me from my fairytale just because they existed. It seemed that I still had the desire to ask for more than I was given and this desire attracted the wrong kinds of frequency, so I spend most of the first four years of my traveling getting rid of these thoughts. I simply had to journey to the source of where these thoughts came from and find a memory there that I needed to overwrite. By means of reflection and hard pursuit I managed to find these memories that did not think highly of themselves and with enough willpower I managed to pursuade them to believe in the benefit of themselves. Once, in an appartment in Prague, I had just baked pancakes when I fully immersed, quite suddenly, in a 24 hour decline of mental sanity. And instead of fighting against the immoral images and feelings, I mustered all the willpower and courage that I had and followed the path of insanity. Total darkness was the side affect of my decline but my willpower and courage were there, present and familiar. In the dark, I had a choice. I could become self aware or drift of into nothingness. When I made the choice to become self aware, the images and feelings became denser and more immediate, they were not an illusive darkness anymore but a story that spoke to me. The pain of possesing such density became noticeable but with the growing of the pain, also clarity came. And with that clarity, an answer was forming itself out of the shadows. 'My dad!'
Suddenly the whole finite experience of power came crashing through the shields of my consciousness and it broke my illusions that had kept me in a state that still believed that I was free of my parents. 
I was not. Right there in front of me, the darkness was denser that ever before and it asked me a question. It wanted to know if I wanted to hate my father for being, and that would be the end of it, or was I curious as to what could be found behind all the hate that I projected towards him. 
I decided to continue. I expected more darkness to come, at least some more clarifying images or feelings but none of that. Instead, as I dived deeper into my own self awareness, I came across a feeling that I had never believed in or witnessed or felt nor seen. It was peace. Sudden and awful as the silence before the storm. But this was the aftermatch. The fields of green after the chaos of the dark. And as I silently observed the images within my own mind, I could begin to believe. And my fairytale actually started to meet it's first guide and best friend the day after, on the streets of Prague.