How many times will I restart this testiomny. I should just go ahead with it. I am standing here today, because I have been mistaken. I was wrong. My beliefs are wrong and still I hold onto them. I am a heretic, and there's not even a god to descend from the sky to judge me.
It is art I fail to comprehend. It breaks me, it ruptures me, it burns me like a flame. How can I describe passion? A passion that was birthed by the neverending state of longing, the primodial wound. I want to be understood, I want to be measured and found valuable. I have no free will, I would do anything else if I could but the fire takes up it's space in me, etches it's tome on my toungue, yankes my eves towards it's reflection and contorts my body to a desk. Nothing else suffices. Nothing else is bearable.
If I could overt Your kind eyes to my arrogance: I think I deserve the recognition. I toiled for many hours of my lifetime, the many hurdles I overcame, here, I can demonstrate that seed of talent embedded in my forehead. So why won't You see ME? I AM TRUTH!
Yes, I am. I hold onto this misconception, this perversion of reality. I create, I call forth, I conjure things from thin air, just to be treated like exactly that, a cloud of a daydream. I have read the other day, they say that great works that are unseen are worthless. WORTHLESS! That art is of course is meaningful as it is pleasurable to create. I don't doubt it, but it has hardly been like that for me. I am not doing this for myself. It is Your eyes that finish every piece I create so WHY CAN'T YOU DO YOUR FUCKING JOB?
ANSWER ME!
All I want is to be seen and loved by everyone. All I want is to save every living being. I am so kind. I am so industrious. Please I beg you, don't let me sink into nothingness.
I am being measured in every second, by machines, by humans, by things I can't comprehend. I am in constant judgement. Always found to be wrong in my convictions.
Here I stand: a heretic. A defiler. I sold my soul to this Teller of Sad Tales, thus I became it. My good friend, don't let my plea get to you. Don't let it ignite recognition in your soul. For to that witch saves you, you'll owe your life to.
I'm enduring the flames, I am enduring.
Because nothing else is bearable.
