Truly the theory involving my writing during school has been proven wrong so far. I just can't seem to create anything remotely close to a plot right now. Perhaps it is not the plot that is the problem, but rather the inspiration for me to write. I haven't sat at my desk in a week, I believe. It's a guilty feeling that I feel inside of me in response to that. As a writer, I should devote myself further than this, but clearly I am not.
Right now I have been focused on questions of faith, which may manifest themselves into some strange sort of story, but seem to restrain me for the meantime. Thoughts about Socrates and his dialogues about justice are intriguing right now. They're something that correspond with the thoughts that I had before I began Plato's Republic. You can see this in "Justice" which is one of my earlier stories. I believe it is actually the first post on the blog.
I have always wondered constantly about moral issues, such as the varying definitions of justice. I was never taught the concept of revenge as a positive, but neither did I attend church to be taught to forgive. But I dare say that beliefs have found their way into my mind. I have been told before that I need to forgive others, but mostly forgive myself. There are burdens that I carry upon my shoulders, things that I dare not mention. The more that I allow these burdens to weigh me down, the more that I will slow in my pace. My goal is getting closer, but slower and slower everyday. Despite my burden, I have found faith.
I do not believe in a literal god, but I am not an Atheist. Through the darkness of the world, I do see a light. Perhaps it is just a candle in the storm, but it is still a light. I do not believe that my path is the only path to take, but rather that everyone has their own paths. This path is right for me, but it may not be right for you. We live our lives, shifting in and out of reality, some more than others. Reality has become less defined as time passes and as we learn the truth of it. What we see, what we hear, what we smell and what we feel are not necessarily real. Everyone experiences everything differently; therefore, reality is truly subjective. My reality is this faith of mine. God is not a real figure, but a figurative concept.
What brought us to this world? Was it all just an accident? Do we even have a purpose? Perhaps science can make it seem very depressing, but I know that even if we are an accident, even if we don't have a purpose set in stone for us, we can affect the world around us. Consider Plato, Socrates, and Aristotle for a moment. Three seemingly ordinary men with lives that have both struggle and pleasure is what they are. It is through the exploration of themselves and others that they carved their names into history, despite the fact that they are 'ordinary men'.
People have choice in their lives, and even if they cannot choose everything, they still have power. We have free will, just like Adam and Eve, referring back to the concept of God. To take such a story literal might be a little confusing if you consider that God is all-powerful, yet he chose to make creatures in his image that he could not control. The snake that tempts them is let into the garden by God, merely to allow them to choose. They chose their lives and how they would live it, so why can't we? They are not quite different from us. We both face temptation, evil, and the endless darkness, but there is still good left to hold on to. From this, I have found that the darkness will dominate the majority of the world, but both light and life can survive through it.
Though sometimes I feel as if I'm more afraid of the light then I am of the dark. Too long have I tried to keep myself in line, only to find myself looking down and noticing that the line was lost long ago. Everything that I believed to be justified constantly found itself to be self-righteous, which brings me back to the idea of justice. To be self-righteous is to justify doing injustice to another, just as murdering a murderer is still murder. This brings me to think about a dream that I had the other night.
The dream started off pleasant, but that didn't last long. I was with three other people. One of them was an older man than I, probably in his thirties. Two girls accompanied us, one of them being a small girl and the other was a beautiful girl my age. It was Italy, I believe. Stone roads, arches, and stone buildings occupied the area, which bordered on the coastline. It was a beautiful scene, but the madness would not stay hidden. A furious balding man was bounding around, threatening people with a loaded gun. We quickly found ourselves running away, hiding behind a building that had a nice view of the sea. I climbed down the small stone wall on to the sand just to make sure that I could. By the time I climbed back up, he was holding the girls at gun-point. I immediately knew that I had to do something, as if I was being forced to. The older girl pushes away the gun with her hand and the man gets even more angry, yelling that he would kill her faster now. This is the point that I struck his hands, attempting to get him to drop the gun.
He doesn't drop the gun, and I back off, confused. He says that he's going to kill me instead now and I begin quickly swaying from side to side in a bad attempt to dodge the bullets that might come my way. He takes a shot and my brain tells me that my heart was pierced. I could feel the warmth of my blood spread throughout my chest, signalling my end. I began making my way toward him, unsure of what else I could do, but trying anyways. Another shot entered my side, and one more made it all go black.
I woke up in a frenzy, feeling the warmth in my chest still. It has been a couple days, so I have given thought to what I might have done. Even if I had a gun or a knife, I don't think I could have been able to kill him in order to save another. I can't kill. I can come close, but I can't kill. Killing, as I've been told, is something that perhaps only someone without any beliefs at all might be able to do. The ten commandments say not to kill, but is it mentioned what would happen if someone breaks one of the commandments? Should death be a rightful punishment for someone, or should they forgive themselves for it? "Salvation is freely mine, and forgiveness is my own," as put by the poet who is shown in the video linked below. This quote is especially strong to me, as I feel the need to be forgiven and saved. Perhaps I shall forgive myself soon, but first I should probably learn from my mistakes. I shall leave you with this to think about for yourself. Farewell, till next time.
-Zero
Video Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1IAhDGYlpqY
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