Genesis

I grew up as a kid wanting to write my own world and my own story, but as an adult I realized that the kid was only mimicking what he saw- destined only to create a sort of spin on a well-established idea. As an adult, I've always had trouble with trying to create something truly new.

If there is one single being that holds the majority of my awe and respect, it is the creator of the Dark Souls franchise, Hidetaka Miyazaki. There is really no amount of description that could do it justice- I believe that even with the praise he has received, his work is underrated and one of the most intriguing gems in fictional history. At first I wanted very much to copy in some way this style while twisting it enough to make my own. However, in the end, I needed something new and I wound up scraping it again and sitting in that white featureless room in my mind synonymous with the blank page of the beginner and wondering...how?

I haven't found an answer yet.

But I think I know where to find it. In madness.

I don't think anyone could blame me. Most artists discover their depths through acts of seclusion or disengagement from the normal world. The religious guru's and the greatest visionaries usually have some ritual that facilitates this. Mines is the inevitable retreat into solidarity- the antechamber of discomfort...despair...the wild throes of the physical self rebelling against this unnatural act even as the portal of the spirit opens up in ones vision and the gates of wonder slowly creak open.

The shades are drawn in my room and my families footsteps can he heard every so often moving too and fro. They haven't seen me in weeks and I can only guess my existence has become more and more a question than a definity, but even this thought is the echo of an echo on the very fringes of consciousness as I descended with great fear and a shaking spirit down the dark corridors of my consciousness. I descend, feeling madness slide around me like a misty shawl. I descend knowing that I can never truly ascend again. But I'm willing to pay the price.

I go down further till it feels like I'm no longer descending...or even walking. The world is so dark I have lost all sense. I am floating...spreading...being pulled apart physically and mentally. And in my mind that bright light blossoms and in that light- searing- I can vaguely see something- even as if feels like it's burning away the last parts of me. I focus harder- ignoring my vaporizing sense of self- the anchor of my existence- leaning more into the revelation of this wonder floating in the void. The truth is there. It's the only thing that ever mattered. I struggle towards it with all my unwinding being. The answer creeps so close to the forefront of conscisousness- a hairs width away from explsive revelation- a trembling ecstasy on the tip of a spiritual explosion, and...

Swoop.

Nothing. All of me. All that was the world or any sense of it. Gone. Forgotten, as though it never existed at all. Perhaps...it never existed at all.