It was the moment that I realized that I would write it out for myself that I realized just truly how it is I adored my own life. Yeah, there was just something weird about the concept of writing a book for someone else to read my life story—but writing, just writing like I used to do in lined journals, well that was alright. I missed that.
I guess that’s how we come to the end of the story, but I guess in all honesty, that’s something we’ll come to figure out together.
So where to begin? I think it sort of all started with David, if you don’t believe it has to begin from the beginning. It just makes more sense this way…
I struggle to recall what happened those few days just prior to July 4 that year. It just fades away as scenes signifigant in their comparative insignifigance, if we were to learn that it was in the steps that led to that moment in my life, and not that moment, that mattered most.
While I’d never celebrated July 4th as a American, as I’d gone home that day I realized that I knew how it felt to feel independence. Rumi would have you believe it was for the love. Freedom found in losing oneself, where two become one.
The thing I’d wonder when I had tried so hard to grasp the concept of writing this all out as a book for the public concious, how—just how—would I explain all the context you’d need that our sugared up bland culture fails to afford, especially when it comes to religious experience or even awareness of the Christian stories?
I guess that’s how the <Wachorski> brothers felt. But then they wrote the Matrix, the script to become an inside secret to those who knew how to decode it. Ah, but from there it’s really a slippery slope into the realm of conspiracy theory. I mean, it begins and ends with the alpha and the omega, and it’s really about righteousness vindication, but then from there the story can unfold as if each human involved was unique and held their own that made this thing we call humanity