Meh.

I guess I did feel a little left out...but what is the point of such silly emotions?

Instead...sleep, tomorrow I must drive and think.

So many paths, so many roads...where do they all lead?

What's in a Novel?

I seriously cannot believe November is already over.

Considering all of the school work, health issues, school obligations, having three people join (and another four people express interest) in the classic Deadlands game I've been running and writing the first draft of my fourth novel...all of it just flew by ever so quickly.

More than once I have had people question my sanity over not just the task of writing a fifty thousand word first draft in just a month but writing a novel at all, much less the fact this was my fourth time to take part in Nanowrimo.

I have four rough novels on my hard drive, something that adds up to being somewhere between 220,000 and 250,000 words of fiction.

That I, Matt Pike, wrote.

I feel some context, some explanation for all this madness is in order:


I. My first venture into the NANOWRIMO madness was back in 2007 and I wrote an incredibly awkward fantasy novel set in modern America about a group of hapless fools who had the misfortune of being chosen to save the world. I plagiarized the personalities of several close friends at the time, the narration style of Douglas Adams and the plot of most every console RPG to be released in the past decade.

The basic story followed a group of teenagers/early twenty somethings who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and had a Guardian (think angelic warrior type wielding a katana) who was commissioned to find the chosen ones and lead them on a quest to prevent an ancient evil from being unleashed onto the world.

Being unfortunate to have me as the writer means their quest was for nougat because they all were screwed over in the end by the leader of the organization who was supposed to be stopping this madness. Their quest lead them to bringing a relic to a holy site that ripped a hole open in the fabric and time and space, causing a spiritual barrier to be removed and in a literal sense all of Hell broke loose upon the world and the heroes were caught in the vortex.

Considering my incredibly lack of skills of narration and writing it is at least a somewhat redeemable work.



II. My second novel during the 2008 novel season was written as a direct sequel to the first book (neither of which have names yet) and continued the groups misadventures as they had been trapped on an alien world and were trying to return hope to stop everything they loved from being wiped out.

I was going through a rather dark phase so the black humor aspect was played up quite a bit and although I broke the 50k mark there really was no real ending and I was at a lost to what I should write.



III. Then came my third novel which became a stereotypical high fantasy novel with a stereotypical unpronounceable name, "The Twilight of Sin'ai" and I took a lot of influence from both "The Lord of the Rings" and "The Dark Tower Series".

In my mind "Sin'ai" takes places in the same universe as the first two novels but was a prequel of sorts showing a grand spiritual battle taking among the stars and that the Earth was insulated from the horrors of it all.

A race of fallen beings called The Dark (original, I know) are these beings who have been stripped of all emotion and rational thought, they are like a virus that simply consumes and steals the bodies of people and creatures and take their form but are merely a twisted and perverse caricature of what once was.

The main group of heroes are fighting a loosing war to protect their realm and have to chase a mysterious man in dark and crimson colored robes who has stolen an artifact which if used can open a portal and allow the Dark free reign to consume this doomed world.

It is quite possible that I was going through a really dark time of my life because without intending to there is a lot of fatalism and nihilistic themes, more so than this years novel which was the intended focus.



IV.This brings us to this year, 2010 and my novel which was lovingly dubbed "The Downward Spiral". A lot of my essays on spirituality draw their names from song titles so it made sense to me that this book would be named after one of the albums I listened to most during the writing process.

The original goal for this novel was to construct a storyline and plot which could be both a stand alone story as well as provide the content for a campaign for the "Call of Cthulhu Campaign". I drew from several sources, most notably H.P. Lovecraft, Steven King, Franz Kafka and Flannery O'Connor.

I wanted to take some unfortunate every day people and throw them into these horrible and impossible situations where the best they could hope is to last just a few minutes longer as the barrier of what is possible/impossible gets ripped down and they feel their sanity being ripped from their being. A lot of the essences was that they were shown the edge of the world and looked over to see this overwhelmingly impossible void that they looked into and saw something coming for them out of the darkness.

I consciously made the choice to pick a genre I have avoided, that of supernatural horror. I also tried to let the content flow as organically as it could and so there is a good amount of dark content so that I would label the books as being PG-13 if not R rated. I did not set out to try and offend people by having characters that swore, had sexual thoughts or were in danger of dying but in order to be true to the story I had to tell what I was saying.

To a degree I still do not know what the ending of this book is, I had a few scenes in my head and did the best I could to connect all of them into some sort of coherent order and considering how little experience I have in this genre...I think it came out well.

There were several points where I considered just scrapping the project and try to stick to something familiar but then I came across this utterly amazing quote:


"The writer who emphasizes spiritual values is very likely to take the darkest view of all of what he sees in this country today. For him, the fact that we are the most powerful and wealthiest nation in the world doesn't mean a thing in any positive sense. The sharper the light of faith, the more glaring are apt to be the distortions the writer sees in the life around him... My own feeling is that writers who see by the light of their Christian faith will have, in these times, the sharpest eyes for the grotesque, for the perverse, and for the unacceptable... The novelist with Christian concerns will find in modern life distortions which are repugnant to him, and his problem will be to make these appear as distortions to an audience which is used to seeing them as natural."
-Flannery O'Connor


This quote sort of smacked me in the face with not just inspiration but this obligation, this need to avoid the intellectual and creative ghetto that exists within the American Christian bubble.

I do not read much Christian fiction because I find both genres to be hopelessly dull, contrived, predictable and full of more Deus ex Machina's than you could hit with a dead Greek playwright.

There are good intentions in trying to shelter people from themes and ideas that might be too much for them, however it should be pointed out that if the entire Bible was adapted it would be rated X because in Genesis alone you have sexy, murder, incest, extortion, lying, drunk people stumbling around, God killing the majority of the population and nuking a couple of cities.

To say that one can read about these things in the Bible and that they are topics in faction that are taboo is a double standard that helps no one.

I have no illusion of ever having any of my books in Lifeway or the other chain Christian bookstores because I have little interest or desire to write feel good, mushy, lovey-dovey let's all hold hands and sing songs while pretending that only "sinners" and "bad" people experience bad things in life.

I suppose me saying that is a wee bit pretentious but I am okay with that.

At the end of the day the best any of us can do is pray, hope and trust that we can follow the convictions and desires God has placed in our hearts.



To me those convictions are:

1.No comprising or censoring of the works I write.
2.That I need to be as painfully honest and open about my struggles because too many Christians hide their scars and pretend everything is perfect when this world is broken. Any fool can see that and I refuse to put my head in the sand just to make people feel good about their complacency.
3.I was given this ability to write and until the day I die I am going to keep writing, keep revising and tell the stories I most want to hear because there are those who need to hear them just as badly as I do.
4.Temet nosce, the unexamined life is not worth living and to write I have to live, fail, learn and grow.
5.Bake more brownies and give out more hugs.

"Your eyes
Are always there
Your eyes
Are what I came for

Your eyes
Drive away my fear
Your eyes
I could just stand there and adore

Stop just right there
Everything has to stop to steal time
For whom I want to be near
Yes I do care and I love the love we share

And I know You're alive
I'll give my heart to survive
This world has nothing to offer a human soul
Reaching for the sky
So Father of light
Keep this human spirit alive"

I feel a bit like curling up into a ball because of the pain.

Ick.
Ack.
Bleh.

In a way it would be nice to go out and do something...but I just feel too tired, too dizzy and really just too sick to put forth the effort it would take to accomplish that.

Oh well.
In other news:

Wheee...

A bit silly how such small things can act as a relief.

Yes.

Silly indeed.

I find it infinitely amazing how in attempting to do the right thing I sabotage myself and end up preventing things I would have rather liked.

Lousy morals and such.

*sigh*

Furthermore, I would at least like to think I have a high tolerance and would help anyone...but I am just getting to the point where I am too tired to deal with certain people.

It is amazing how certain people lack tact.
Or compassion for that matter.

Is it really so hard for people to have manners?
Will it be the skin off your bloody teeth if you close your mouth while eating?
Blargh.

If I didn't know better I would think that certain people are going out of their way to try and to my ever growing pile of pure confusion.

I have to wonder how much is too much.
What will cause me to loose and become lost in all this contradictory nonsense.

Hope lives.
Burns and struggles.
Gasps for breath.
But lives.

Quote of the Day:

“Humankind cannot bear very much reality.”
-T.S. Eliot

When you were here before
Couldn't look you in the eye
You're just like an angel
Your skin makes me cry
You float like a feather
In a beautiful world
I wish I was special
You're so fucking special

But I'm a creep
I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here

I don't care if it hurts
I want to have control
I want a perfect body
I want a perfect soul
I want you to notice when I'm not around
You're so fucking special
I wish I was special

But I'm a creep
I'm a weirdo
What the hell I'm doing here?
I don't belong here

She's running out the door
She's running out
She runs runs runs

Whatever makes you happy
Whatever you want
You're so fucking special
I wish I was special

But I'm a creep
I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here
I don't belong here

Pain and the Frail Gifts from a Forked Tongue

If feelings can be ripped, torn and destroyed
then why do they persist to nag my heart?
Such lies, such pain, such frailty of conviction
and I morn this loss?

A fool and bastard I am,
of every sense
cut off and rejected,
thrown back to the pile of filth
and hate that courses through my veins.

Do you see this blood,
the sins of my past
passing and moving in shadows
crying out to I,
a cry that I should cut
and let blood pour
staining this grass
that has been my bed
in these stages of delirium.

Do you know hast?
Do you know hate?
Frailty that reeks
of a stench of rottenness
that all I ever was told
were mere lies,
pleasing to the speaker
and knives which rake upon my heart,
such a dark and deprave coal
that is no thing more than I.

Do you see this tripe,
this disgusting
verbose vomit?

I am but a creep
such a lowly insect
with a festering wound
just out of my reach.

Can I blame a nymph
for her sins
of being as she is?

Tis unbecoming of a man
to blame problems on others
when the problem was me
and all I can say is I will stand
and might die with dignity,
dignity that left the house of my father
and here I am.

Blood that is mud in my veins
and horror upon horror,
I know not the story
nor can I handle it.

I wish to be more, be more than I am
but it is nothing you will see
for my heart is closed.
This demon seed has been planted
and it crystallizes
and become a diamond.

Rough, hard, unbreakable
for your tendrils have grown deep
and all that I pull
makes the pain worse
and soon you will have a marker
if you care to dance upon
the tomb that will hold
these rotting bones.

Hold a mirror up
maybe hold it close
to see the bones under the makeup
and hollow the promises of a woman are made
such vain lies
I ate and dined on
for I believe the impossible
forgetting that fantasy
will never be reality.

Trust,
faith,
honor,
respect
such laughable terms
amounting to nothing more
than diarrhea of the mouth,
such a revolting pile of shit
that I only have myself to blame for.

I crushed and destroyed bridges
just for something that was a lie.

Bitter?
I?
Nay, just one whose virgin eyes
were ripped open
by the gaping hole in my soul
and for daring
to open my heart to such fables,
such indiscriminate lies.

Look closely,
count the vowels
and see the pain in every symbol
every frail postulate
as it may be my last.

These words must burn,
must face the fire of correction
for the only fool as me
in and out
in and out
and soon to say goodbye.

Do not blink
for you may miss my exit,
crashing and burning
and unable to cope
with how harsh reality is
and shall ever and forever be.

It is, it is.
Thank you for it,
thank you for the pain
because I feel grace
where I would not have.
You ripped me apart
calling my life sin
and demonstrating
every fault
and every sin
making me see
and feel why humanity
should be purged,
ripped from our place.

Why such games?
Such a Divine Madman
holds back
not destroying us
and yet here we are.

Goodnight, good bye
and fare well.
Do not let the door hit you
as you leave
and know there is no return
and never a second chance.

This heart is closed.
A diamond forged
from the pressures and pain.
See the caricature you created
but do not touch the strings,
they are nothing more
than rusted barb wire,
created in the tumble and fall from grace
and rusted from the bitter hot tears
I was told to never share.

Good riddance to a waste of space,
farewell to my ocuping this pain.
I do not want this
and refuse to carry it any more.

Shadow boxing
and fighting my own shadow
because I am who I am.

I can handle being single
because I have to.
I refuse to lead others on
and crush them and treat them
as play things
just to increase my self worth
and because I can stand the silence.

Having my dad and grandmother
ripped from me
by distance, disease and death
just made me darker
made me more silent
and forced me to abandon the lie
that the good people get rewarded.

We will stand, fight
and die horrible deaths.
Not for a stupid gold road
or mansions
but to be held and have our tears wiped away
by one bigger
so much more beautiful than you can know.

Pain is what opens the path to God,
sin costs blood
and I would bleed all of mine now
just to be closer
to feel the love I scarcley believe is true.

Maybe in several thousand years
of healing
of pergutory
and grace making me new
I can look in your eyes and not feel pain,
not see the rejection
and contempt for the bastard I am.

Goodnight,
farewell,
let the pain be as it will be
for I am who I am.

Broken, bloodied and dying
but more alive now
than I ever was.

I think I enjoy writing and playing villains because it allows me to tap into a really dark side of myself that I normally do everything I can to avoid showing or being a part of.

However...mad genius is at work here...

Quote of the Day:

"Fanaticism consists of redoubling your effort when you have forgotten your aim."
—George Santayana

"the farther I fall I'm beside you
as lost as I get I will find you
the deeper the wound I'm inside you
for ever and ever I'm a part of

you and me
we're in this together now
none of them can stop us now
we will make it through somehow
you and me
if the world should break in two
until the very end of me
until the very end of you

all that we were is gone we have to hold on
when all our hope is gone we have to hold on
all that we were is gone but we can hold on

you and me
we're in this together now
none of them can stop us now
we will make it through somehow
you and me
even after everything
you're the queen and I'm the king
nothing else means anything"

Yes.

I am that guy who will go do something or get something at 2am, 11pm of any other absurd when I already have a half million things to do.

I'll even do it without so much as a thanks.

Just because of love.

I want to learn how to love even those I do not know...those whom I hate with that passion...but even more so, the same passion God has for the lost sheep and the ones who have become wolves and preying on other sheep.

Even if it means taking a Shepard's staff and striking to protect the innocent and those being preyed upon.

I want to show love that is beyond my capacities and beyond my beliefs and is straight from the lips of Christ.

Why is it so easy to be angry...bitter, jealous...feeling these rush of beings at once.

There is good, wonderful and beautiful things in life...

It is just hard to see things from before...with a more naive approach.

I suppose the trick is learning to not trust, trying to give everything in the right manner to find an ace to keep up your sleeve...

Time to mentally check out of reality to do some serious writing...

Certain people...yeah...certain people.

Being alive is nice though.
Woo.

So much joy and apathy spun into one day...

Quote of the Day:

"No, no, no way, Reinette Poisson? Later Madame D'Etoiles, later still mistress of Louis XV, uncrowned Queen of France? Actress, artist, musician, dancer, courtesan. Fantastic gardener! ...I'm the Doctor, and I just snogged Madame de Pompadour!"
-The Doctor

*Brain explodes*

After both playing and running tabletop games for over a decade this comic made me laugh and cringe just because of how often scenarios like this actually arise:

http://www.darthsanddroids.net/episodes/0098.html

Quote of the Day:

"Grand Viziers were always scheming megalomaniacs. It was probably in the job description: 'Are you a devious, plotting, unreliable madman? Ah, good, then you can be my most trusted advisor.'"
—Terry Pratchett

It is sort of morbidly humorous to see people throw God around as being the cosmic cause for their incredibly idiotic effects.

I suppose there is always someone else to blame...what good would taking personal responsibility do anyway...right?

Part Time Messiah

I really thought I said I was done with this gig.

I drew a line, marked it out and said "No more. No more trying to carry the world, much less any of its stupid little apes that managed to get themselves in trouble and decide to come crying to me."

After all, what can I do?

I can barely contain the insanity swirling in and out of my soul...emotions, thoughts, feelings, chemical reactions, physical actions...insanity day in and day out...so what can I do?

I do not care.

I have tried to do everything and have ended up doing nothing...I am not writing the world off but I am writing the parasites away.

I willingly bleed my soul out to people who are not even worth my trust...so why should I whore my time, soul, sanity and well being just to hear someone bitch and moan about how terrible their life is?

I am human.
I am a sinner.
I, for reasons beyond my understanding, am a sinner saved by grace.

But by no stretch of the imagination does that make me perfect, some sort of all knowing guru who is going to sacrifice his well being for the greater good.

I am no one's hero.
I am barely ranking as an antihero.
I would fit much more comfortable in the ranks of being an apathetic villain.

And yet Jesus calls to me to lay down my arms, lay down my pain, my rage, my anger...my everything and follow...to where?

I do not know.
I do not know so much...and yet the love, the grace, forgiveness...so many things I take for granted, I forget, I throw back into the heavens when I just stop caring and break down...

I am loved.
Even when I am enraged and unlovable, when I do not show grace and I hurt people's feelings...when I back stab them and then I narcotize myself with apathy, uncaring and abject ed hated.

Even when I do not know what to do and I fail.
I am loved, love so dearly, chased after and longed for by some sort of Divine Madman that really should know when to quit...but He never has.

I'll never know why.

But that is okay.

I am loved.

Quote of the Day:

"That old saw about 'to understand all is to forgive all' is a lot of tripe. Some things, the more you understand the more you loathe them."
-Robert A. Heinlein

With all of my complaining, whining and general negativity...there is so much horror, so much pain in this world that my problems are reduced to the insignificant little nothings they really are.

Seeing, hearing, feeling the pain running through the eyes and souls...

And I realize that I do not know how to pray.

Millstones for Sell

The chords around my neck
are starting to choke
wrapping tight
and cutting me off
from whatever else is in this world.

The absence in me
is this gaping hole
this want to be loved
and maybe just accepted
but
I'm not sure it ever mattered
because
if I was loved
would there be this gap
from where you left?

It feel so stupid
to pray
and write letters
so someone so far gone
that I do not think
and maybe I even know
I will never see again.

Why speak of fair
and cry out in pain
to a God
who only seems
to move
only as needed...

My faith may be weak
and bloodied
with so many broken bones
but hope still prevails
moving within me.

I don't have words
and I never will,
no one can understand
nor want to feel
this void
that ever is a part of me.

Maybe in the next Age
the healing will come,
every tear will be wiped away
and the screaming pain
may just subside.

Until then I will walk the shadows,
moving in and out life
as I look,
pray for hope
and falter in step.

The exceptionally sad thing is that the person who actually bothers to believe my lies is me.

Yeah.

Sad.

Quote of the Day:

"...but the cruelest thing you can do to an artist is tell them their work is flawless when it isn't."
-Ben "Yahtzee" Croshaw

I just want to stop hurting.
Is that too much to ask?

Faith and hope are bone weary, running out and so tired.

Does it matter?

So many questions, too much time and so much exhaustion.

Hope is there, just too tired and too weak to move.

Sunday was one of the most peaceful evening I have had in months..if not years.
Even just with watching Doctor Who, it was nice to feel apart of something more real that may last word may be the more illinoformed

Quote of the Day:

"The religious persecution of the ages has been done under what was claimed to be the command of God. I distrust those people who know so well what God wants them to do to their fellows, because it always coincides with their own desires."
-Susan B. Anthony


http://www.thelizlibrary.org/undelete/library/library005.html

God...please give me relief from the pain and nausea...please...

Another, Another

So far...and yet so close.
The foolish rhymes of yesterday
falling out of sync.

An evening amongst familiar company
and it is curious
how the simple
and what many call mundane
is what helps me hang on.

Laughter, embraces
and even a hand holding a hand
all just are milestones
mixed with grace
on this long
and convoluted journey.

It is so hard
just to recall
what it was
that started
me on this trip
and finding my way
back to this school.

I struggle to believe in love
and the fading hope
that love still believes in me.

I was able to impart
and give some comfort
providing some security.
Just another fleeting moment
but one of the few moments of grace
in this year of Hell.

I have already lost so much
and yet
I know the worst is to come.
It may be cowardly to run
but I would flee
in order to preserve
if not just outright protect
those who suffer because of me.

Fleeting
just passing by
the waves rolling on
and pulling at me
summoning me to dive
and never return to the surface.

Just another passing moment
on this time of life,
shades and shadows,
passing and fleeting
and watching the sun spiral
into its everlasting decay.

I am.
I am.

Evidently I am so exhausted right now that I was able to read some comments in German and it made perfect sense.

Which is awesome considering I have absolutely no working knowledge of German.

Lovable Loser Syndrome

These people do not want truth.
They want to be coddled and patted on the back.
They want reassurance that the screams of the dying and damned outside their door is just a radio stuck on static.

Compassion and empathy are dirty words whereas complacency, self-righteousness and pleasure are their drugs of choice.

I would rather be living in this pain, feeling the screams of pain rip through my nerve cells and die trying to change the world...then lay here in numb apathy.

I may loose every relationship, every friendship...every companion may prove to be unfaithful, untrustworthy and keen to stab me in the back...but if I can simply die having been faithful to the call I can ask for nothing more.

If need be I will find solace in You alone.
If I loose all of these and must limp and crawl alone this stretched path...I will.

I have lost everything and felt my soul rip apart several times already...it just eventually gets to a point where I no longer give a damn about being loved by people. I am an attention starved person who will perform simply to have some iota of confidence build up...but at the end of the day it's not worth it...nothing in this world is worth the sacrifice and the pain.

God, the pain.
It will come and go.
I will handle it as I must.
Luckily I do not star as a hero or main character.
I will never have my face on a poster or an action figure in my image.

Just as well.
There are no heroes.
All humans do is fail and create more problems.
Problems that cause pain.
Problems that someone has to fix.

Such a painful paradox.
So frustratingly stupid to pine after someone who sees you but looks through you.
If anything that is worse than being ignored.
At least when you do not exist at all to that person you can at least dream that one day they may see you...but to be looked through and seen as nothing more than a lovable loser who somehow just never manages to "make it" well...I can simply say I do not care.

What is the point of wasted breath?
Why do I feel the need to waste air?
What more can I expect or ask out of these people?

None of us are born without some purpose, some role in this story.
However none of us are assured as to what that is.

I am not one made to be able to love and love back.
What is the absolute point?
Love, marriage, family...silly things never meant for me.
I try but my heart is growing colder and deader with each day.
I feel less, my compassion is fading and my empathy is in chaotic decay.

I focus on myself so much...to my own determent.
The decay, the pain...all so real and vivid...

I don't know the future.
I do not need to know it.
Maybe something will change...maybe I will learn to feel again and open my heart up...but I would just as soon let it grow cold and at least be able to support and hold someone...something up...while the rest of me just falls apart.

At least I might be able to act as a stonewall.
That has to count for something.

Quote of the Day:

“Nothing is more revolting than the majority; for it consists of few vigorous predecessors, of knaves who accommodate themselves, of weak people who assimilate themselves, and the mass that toddles after them without knowing in the least what it wants”
-Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Pointlessly stupid angry rage.
Yay.

Where did I leave my sarcasm button?

Quote of the Day:

"Forgiveness means it finally becomes unimportant that you hit back."
-Anne Lamott

Thank you Jesus, thank you for my friends who are acting as anchors and propping me up because of how hard it is to move at times from the pain, how hard it is to function and just for helping me retain my sense of humor in the storms.

The paradox is that when I am in the worst pain...you find me here and carry me, letting the prayers of all those who came before...this family of saints that all of these ones who mean so much to me are in...with divisions, pain and trials...we are closer than human blood...we're bound by the blood of you my Love, my Lord.

I really could do without the whole pain thing for a day or two...

It is sort of amazing how some people are so proficient at casting others to the side.

I wonder how often I have done that without realizing...hurt people, hurt their feelings, made them feel rejected, made them feel worthless...

So much is going on so often and there is so little time in which to act or try to decide what the right thing to do is...

Quote of the Day:

"There's no point being grown-up if you can't be childish sometimes."
-The Doctor

Is finally, finally breaking the 12k word mark and only need around 7k more to catch up and be on schedule. He has no idea how the end product will be but is rather proud of how some of the plot and characters are turning out. This is definitely PG-13 bordering R rated material which is very much new territory for him to be working in...scary yet refreshing in ways that only novel writing can be.

Yay for third person.

I forget how much other Christians can make my head hurt.

I just do not see a point for going overboard with "praise" this and "praise that"...I know it's not all insincere...in fact I would dare say the majority of it IS sincere...it is just "Christianese" that drives me mad.

What is the point of talking about faith when it never goes beyond a theory or a group of words loosely used to describe how a person wastes a perfectly good Sunday morning because it is nothing more than status or a feel good pat on their back?

I know letting other people's actions and thoughts interfere and control how I respond is not just unhealthy but stupid.

The good thing is that we're all on equal footing before God...we're all sinners, all broken and all in need of healing, acceptance and love...it's just learning to live those qualities out is so hard.

So tired, so far from home...far from any sense of relation.
I feel like a stranger.
An alien.
Disconnected from those who do not know of what I speak or what I have seen.

How can one begin to divulge the experience of feeling eternity flow through oneself?

So much more...

It is basic yet so deep, simple and yet so profound...God's love.

I have been browsing Deviantart trying to find pictures to inspire my writing for Nanowrimo and I keep getting drawn back to this picture. The guy looks a lot like how I envision my main character Jace looks like and of course he spends 95% of his time running from Eldritch abominations. ^_^

http://nintene.deviantart.com/favourites/#/d1d9j22