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Fukai Mori |
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"As I sit here tonight, I have pondered both past and present circumstances. I have come to fully realize the extent of my life thus far, as well as it's effects, both positive and negative, on people I know. However, as long as these nearly 19 years have been, only on true consistency remains; I have always been me. Ironically, this it also the largest inconsistency in my life. Looking back at the items I wrote to myself, as few and far between as they are, they've all proven one simple thing that would be apparent to even the illiterate; I am completely unable to trust anything I produce, thus I use pencil, that which can be remade. This is consistent in what I use to remind myself that I exist; save for one thing. Zachary. No matter what, he cannot be changed or erased from how I raised him. A single thing that intrigues me most about my permanent mark on this plant is this: he is my success, my dream to be. Funny that the older sibling envies the younger, but that boy has the things I wish I did. He grew with someone trying to guide him, even if that person was somewhat selfish. Anytime that kid needed something, there was always someone around for him. I fully admit that I likely scarred the child a few times, choosing a crueler way of raising him sometimes, and regrettably almost taking his life at one point. Mistake are made, and even the gravest of sins can be forgiven. Or at least, that's what I like to believe. Sometimes it's funny coming across people who are given the world, and yet ask for more. I constantly wonder how these people work and what it is they truly desire. Everyone has at least one golden ribbon among the uncountable charcoal ribbons of the mind. It's things like those, though, that make you think, "Have I really made a difference? Does my existence truly bring peace to the minds of others, and what would occur if there was no existence of myself?" When I was younger, I would think to myself, "If people change so much when they get older, what happens to their old self? With so much talk about souls among everyone older, do they change over to a different one at a certain age? Like a transfer of trains or buses..." Thinking back to this still makes me think over those possibilities, if one day we suddenly become a completely different person altogether. Such thoughts though are now easily dismissed after becoming an adult, realizing that my sense of self has always been mine. The 'soul' doesn't change over, as initially thought. It's more accurately described as a metamorphosis of sorts. Much close to a caterpillar becoming a butterfly than a business man changing flights between New York and Tokyo. The only two shreds that I can prove this to myself are my inability to believe in myself and my use of pencil. Truth be told, the latter is truly a side-effect of the former, just something to... 'outgrow,' as I've always been told to do. Mind you, do you every truly outgrow something? It's a confusing subject, as nostalgia will always draw you back in, no matter what. Outgrowing something is impossible, like trying to run away from your true self. Just short of six months ago, I came back to this small town and underwent yet another appearance change. I've gained a small, yet slightly noticeable amount of weight, and had my hair shortened mostly against my will. Although I've retained that give pound increase, my hair has returned to it's old form, just like the past always returns. Even change must be maintained for permanency, I suppose. This hair is my only real way of remembering things it seems, but I should keep true records of those notes I write myself. From this day on, I swear to myself, whenever possible, to write in pen. I will always remember the pencil though. Always."
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miraitrunkssama's journal
devious
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