You know, it's remarkable how well we can hide the pain. It can get to the point were we can hide it from ourselves. Maybe it's just me. All I know, is my greatest fear is to be forgotten. I don't mean "Oh my God! We left Billy at the store." I mean, "Billy? Whose Billy? and why is that kid trying to come into my house?"
Obviously there are a few differences, seeing as how I'm entering adulthood, but the fear is the same. I sympathize with Achilles, and I wonder if given the chance, would I choose any different? I don't seek glory, but I still want to be remembered. I don't want to fade from awareness after I'm dead, and I'm terrified that I will when I'm alive.
That is why I try so hard to leave my mark on the world. Whether it be frantically writing down the stories that plague my head in the hopes of being the next Christopher Paolini, or planning on how to become a millionaire by the age of 30, so my future children will be provided for and remember where their money came from. Half of me is writing this in the hopes that if nothing else, someone down the line will stumble over this after I'm gone, and remember me that way.
The other half wishes to chart my life through the rest of high school, and maybe track my changes through college. Either way, I have a dairy that I won't lose, as feminine as that sounds. Journal doesn't sound right. Journal is a book you record labs in. Not something you poor your feelings out on.
Well now that you know about me, I suppose I'd better start. My Grandfather is dying. I almost lost him on Christmas, but God intervened and gave us a miracle. He's walking around, and almost seems back to his old self. It's painful watching him slide in and out of health. I've gotten paranoid that I'm going to lose everyone, and be alone again. I don't ever want to be alone again. It was a painful place, full of anger and hate. I'm not going to lie, the mere thought of it scares me. I used to pretend I was one of the characters from my private world. The character who the world was based around actually. He wasn't the first, but he was the reason for the rest. Sivarias was a god among mortals, the most powerful mortal in the world. A mortal with the power to defeat gods. Here's the best part. Nothing could bother him. His only weakness was the battle he fought hourly with his inner demon, his Mr. Jekyll if you will. Sooner or later reality smacks you a good one. The pain comes back. I don't do that anymore, instead I find myself drawn to books and games. The pain is still there, still excruciating, still clawing at my heart and mind. I never even realize until something innocuous sets it off, and I'm fighting back tears.
My girlfriend gets pissed at that, but sometimes I don't know what's bothering me, and it's not until I'm crying that I have a clue. Sometimes I don't even know something is bothering me until then. I don't know. I've rambled enough I think. There are probably so many run-on sentences that any English person will have a heart-attack.
The Man Who Envies an Immortal