Bursts of compelling creativity often find me at some of the most inconvenient of places; folding pieces of toilet paper in some kind of private display of lavatorial origami, completely aware that nobody will ever have the pleasure of my designs. I flush away the would be masterpieces that hail from the realms of toilet seat boredom, without a care! Thanks to this odd occupation of stimulus, I am rarely found bored and this certainly puts me into the divide of the creative types; whose minds race with silly ideas of games and tricks to play on those they hold most dear. However there are also those that sit on the other side of lives many fences, they don’t enjoy the games, are too afraid to be silly in fear of being judged or not taken seriously. It has always been the case that these people fascinate me the most, if not for understanding what route has brought them to such destructive choices, but for learning exactly how best to quench their hurtful appetites.
Every man must decide whether he will walk in the light of creative altruism or in the darkness of destructive selfishness.
Martin Luther King, Jr.
One of the most upsetting days I have ever had to endure was when I came home from work one night about 3 years ago. My girlfriend at the time was a very troubled soul, she spent the majority of her life then, wrapped up in her own self pity and awesome anger. This destructive personality was such a brutal force that I would try to avoid her at all costs, and ultimately lead to our separation; I would work late most nights or visit friends purely to avoid the vacuous environment that her negative ways created in our home. This night in particular, I came home to find that she had broken into my wooden box, the place that I kept all of my most treasured memories. It contained letters my brother and I wrote to each other when we were, for the first time apart from one another, and being twins this certainly was not an easy time, dealing with our Armed Forces training, my brothers company would have been more needed than any. His words of encouragement helped me to overcome the brutal attacks that my character would suffer physically and mentally, on a daily basis.
The box also contained all of my teenage love letters, little words spoken by girls whose lives I once played a key role, brave words of feelings expressed on to paper for the first time shared with someone, together entering into an unknown world of emotions and insecurity. The content of this box defined who I am, I never needed to look in it, but the thought of knowing that it was there, that maybe one day when the people whose words where dearest where no longer with me, I could be taken back to a time when we were together. And in a jealous vile rage my ex destroyed its entire content, little to her ignorant knowledge, she had thrown away letters that she had even sent me herself, our first date cinema tickets and the first birthday card she gave me. Before that evening, I never knew the extent of the power that anger can take hold of a person. I regret the argument that ensured more than anything I have ever done. When I think about how I handled that situation, I am always overcome by a great amount of shame and even now, as I type, I wish I’d never done what I did. However it is this bench-marked experience that reminds me of how one should more forward in life, for as pushed as I was, I felt that ever since dealing with such an incident, my life and my character have changed, and will never be the same again.
I have spent my life trying to help those that need it most; I have been taken for granted, cheated, and made to look like a fool. Yet still I offer my services to all who needs them, why? Because there really isn’t any other right way to live.
When one gets hurt by another the feelings that come flooding in can, for many, become addictive. I am very much convinced that anger and sadness are both highly addictive and massively destructive. This is why they are pursued by people caught up in these awful emotions. Hunting for the hurt or feeding the jealously are phrases that I often hear spoken among friends, and it is this element of human nature that is perhaps one of the hardest obstacles to overcome, especially when dealing with those that are closest to us. People will often hide within themselves the true nature of their being, good characters are at the root of everyone and no matter what you may have done in the past, mistakes are exactly that, mistakes. It is how you handle those memories when they recoil that will determine if you are growing the right way. Half of us will allow those hard memories when we felt least like ourselves to eat away at us, to hold us back, to refuse to allow us close to the ones best for us, for fear of them being entangled in the estranged and removed being that is you. Then there are the rest of us; they look upon those memories angry but thankful of how they have been since. They enjoy nothing more than to do the opposite, they don’t share these feelings or compulsions with everyone, as the deeds are just for them and their own personal judgment. It is of course harder to be the later, but then life doesn’t pause, you cant turn back time and the sun will always rise, just as each day is new, so are you. As for every passing moment it is another chance, to turn it all around.