The Musings of the Living

[Blackdrakon30 2,943]

The Musings of the Living

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Take a look at the sky. Do you remember watching shapes in the clouds on the bright summer days? Do you remember the days when you looked up at the stars scattered across the night sky and pondered existence, the meaning of life, and the vastness of the universe?

These thoughts are what make us truly alive. I’ve walked across hundreds of bridges, on thousands of sidewalks, and past millions of people. We’ve searched within nature, others, and ourselves when we think. Take a look at the world. There are billions of people all thinking, all part of one awe-inspiring painting. There is pain and sorrow yet always more than that in this world. There is hope and love too.

This is a message from the one who places his words in my mouth, and who saved my life:

“I love you more than the sun, moon, and stars that my own hands formed in the sky. I am yours, and you are mine; and have no fear. I will always be by your side.”
 

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The following collection of pieces are various reflective pieces that I've used as my Skype status, or just that I was inspired to write at some point. A few of these may be familiar to you, and one of them has actually been posted to AWC in the past. One piece I actually entered from an old AWC contest. They will be presented in chronological order of when I wrote them. I will warn you however: if you are offended by mentions of religion, then this is not for you. I express my beliefs many times in this collection. And so with no further adieu, I present to you the musings of the living. 

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I've opted to continue The Musings of the Living in a Google Document from now on. I'll go ahead and put the link to it below, and you can feel free to comment on any of it here or contact me via Skype (if you have my Skype). I'm doing this to make things easier for me, since Tanki forums isn't really the easiest platform for formatting and writing in. Anyways, here's the link:

 

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1zYWVMPw_tDXwTYW_J-jaK33iqV5vrSOifVTjE1Sd6_M/edit?usp=sharing

 

In the spoiler below is some of the pieces I wrote and put in here already; no reason really to remove them. The ones that ended up as my favorites writing quality-wise are "The Silver Clock" and the "Collision", but these aren't really the most important to me overall. All of these are equally important to me, because they all tell a story about this world, me, and the one who orchestrated it all. I hope you enjoy, or hope that these make you think at the very least.

 

Project: Inspire
 

What inspires me to write, you ask?

The water holds me in a trance, and I sway with the melody. Trees shimmer in the mirror below and display their strength within. Leaves float across the river like the snow falling lazily through the sky. A thought strikes me like a tap on the shoulder, and I urgently open my notebook before it flits away swifter than a sparrow. Snow is like a book with a story. It lazily lurks before me, reminding me of who I am and why I am here. The snow gives me thought, the water gives me reflection, the leaves a free mind, and the trees perseverance. A stone cylinder rolls across the ground gently, ironically making my thoughts less concrete. An inspiration is the universe and the rotations of nature’s states.

Music permeates my body, shaping my consciousness. Every bit is like life providing food, nourishing my soul inside. Certain music provides certain results; some pieces are made for instilling thoughts into the mind while others suppress imagination. Even as this is written I listen to sounds of joy, sadness, anger, and reality. It gives me focus and makes me see what others might otherwise miss. The world is made of things with words. A true writer utilizes the inspiration as a tool, to channel these words and make them able to touch hearts. No better power than the ability to impact others to the very core. Music is an easy funnel point to collect inspiration.

Pages turn with intent, a quest with purpose. Stories are what make us move, and what give us ideas. There are few things more powerful than words of someone else, especially when they shape your own words into a new tale. Written imagination is never a force that should be more underestimated; they do say that the pen is more deadly than a sword. On a similar note, I would say few things have the same impact as a book. Stories are never ending cycles that create our legends and history. A tale never disappears, merely altering appearance.

As the person looks at me, I see it with awe inside. Then I gaze at my own hand. The complexity within astounds me, and then I realize how similar I am to the smiling person. We both grin with laughter and have impossibly complicated hands. Our bodies and minds are so intensely intricate that there are few things with so much background behind it. If you are looking for a narrative, watch someone's face on the street. Eyes reveal much; They show pain, happiness, and everything in between. Their world is etched into a few mere lines upon their visage.

Before my final conclusion, I would like to give a few thanks. I would like to express gratitude towards everyone who has ever supported me in these endeavors, and everyone who I have used as inspiration. You are more valuable to me and some than you will ever know. My last bit of appreciation goes to the reporters who creates this project; it has been my inspiration.

The end of the rope is here. The truth is revealed. The question is so broad, yet incredibly intimate. Personal yet universal. There is only a few things I could say as an answer. These phrases contain far more meaning than any other sections of this, and if you read any single part I would hope it to be this next one.

Artists derive inspiration from art, which is everything, and create new inspirations. One could say that an artist inspires another artist. This would be somewhat erroneous; the correct version is this: The art of an artist inspires an artist, who in turn creates new art. Which came first? The Artist who creates Inspiration, or the Inspiration that makes the Artist? Even our universe requires its own Artist that every inspiration is gained from indirectly or directly. That is where I gain my inspiration.
 

 
 
 
The Silver Clock

My silver colored clock is ticking. My battery charging. Someday the battery will die, but I suppose I will live until then. Thinking too much is the greatest strength anyone could have, despite it also becoming their greatest weakness. Some days we need to run our race hard, like we want to win. The road is not an easy one. You must shape your phrases like you mean them. Every single hour in history is hinged on the words “I am….”, “Let’s make….” or “Let there be….”. The latter brings the basic forms into existence, and its partner alters them. The most powerful words in the universe are “I Am”. It is the epitome of thought. We may be silent, but when these words are spoken the matter of reality is shifted. It precedes every mighty decision of our lives, it changes who everyone is, and chooses how we impact others.

One day I was seven. Then I was eight. Then I was nine. Suddenly I am older. The silver clock began ticking as I discovered that time could not be regained. The world quickly turned from an opportunity into a desert, and then back once more. The clock sounded again. It let me know that I was aging, just a small reminder that eventually I will run out of power. The clock sounded again. My eyes dart to the start of the stars and they were bigger than ever before. Obviously I was misinformed that things become small as I get tall and older. The clock ticked again. My hands grew weary from holding on, and I considered the fall. It would be so simple, so easy. Would anyone notice? Would anyone care? Would anyone recharge my battery without me? Would the silver colored clock keep working without me? These thoughts were driftwood in my head, just spare pieces of something bigger than me. Out of the void, a voice of might gave me an insight that was just right to change my view and once again restart time. I felt these words.

“I am yours, and you are mine,” the Voice declared. Ice clattered through my spine and I knew that the clock wasn’t finished yet. Those words shook my core more than anything ever could in the future. Perhaps I can build a boat.

Two days I was 15. Things happen too fast. I think we need a speed bump to detain movement. I’m not sure what speed will attain but I just know I want to go faster than before. The clock is still ticking. The stars are bigger than ever, and I can see forever within the water of a river. The water is the perfect size for a small boat, but I have to build mine first. I’m currently too occupied since I think my battery might run out of power soon. I need to keep an eye on it or my charge might drift away underneath my eyesight.

Three days I was 16. New truths reveal every day, as numerous as sand on the seashores. Maybe I thought wrong for two days. The clock slipped my attention, and my battery is usually on low charge. The boat is yet to enter the river, and yet to enter construction. When will my life be free of obstruction? Maybe we need to notice things besides the passing cars in order to see the world. I was too busy wondering if my battery’s power would drift away to be able to build my driftwood ship. I remember the voice that poured ice down the back of my shirt. He wants me to go somewhere, in the boat. The silver colored clock is still ticking, but I am afraid that if I leave on the boat it may stop ticking before I realize the passing time. When did these doubts and weaknesses weasel into my world? They don’t belong, and they don’t leave when told. The stars are still overhead, and the same moon that I looked upon the night of New Year's Eve 9 years ago floats above me. It reminds me of how we are blown around but that doesn’t mean we can’t get back up. I wish I could instruct my 9 years ago self with some words.

“Soon you will realize time isn’t a renewable resource. That little silver clock will keep ticking, but only for so long. Keep your mind off the time and the pain. It may seem to prevent you from being late, or from missing events, but it will drive you insane. Be alive while you have life. You may feel like you need to be great. You may feel like you aren’t good enough. You will soon ask if anyone would notice if you were gone. Think on this: Would you rather have your great deeds appreciated and internalized by those who knew you slight, or would you rather have your slight deeds appreciated and internalized by those who knew you great?”

Some days the clock ticks faster. It scares me. That is when some thoughts rush through my head. “Oh dear, I’m being controlled by my fear, the night draws near and the light is starting to drift away for good so I’m going to say that we need to bite and get the work done while we can before the light’s out of sight.”

I’m being contrite, don’t fight don’t pretend you don’t hear don’t turn a deaf ear you know that I’m right. Look around while you can and be thankful. Don’t take people or anything for granted, because before you know it a phone battery could die or a clock could stop ticking. I suppose there is no reason for my lines to rhyme, but I don’t have time. I want to eliminate the objects that block me but I’m constantly haunted by the clock. The silver clock keeps ticking. My mind often climbs in verse when I don’t have a while to ponder. Perhaps my thoughts move faster in that style, to deal with the slipping moments that crawl away from me as surely as the sun crawls across the horizon towards the West.

Everything you have has been gained through sacrifice of another. Do not waste their gifts. Be aware of the silver colored clock, but do not obsess. If you are reading this, don’t feel stress, your clock is still ticking, and you have time. Use it wisely.

 
 
 
Hands

I looked at my hands, and saw the same lines and worn skin as I saw on another person that day. That person had the same hands as yet another person, and so onwards. A faint smile adorned my lips, a bittersweet mood, as I realized that everyone has the same hands as they were all made by the same Creator. The same hands, yet so different. Look at hands and I guarantee you will not find the same hands on two people… yet everyone has hands with five fingers each unless something unfortunate occurred in the past, and there is always blood flowing through those hands that flow into words on a page, or other ways of helping and hurting other people. It’s an interesting concept really. I would argue that you can learn a lot about a person from their hands. People say eyes tell everything, and I won’t argue that eyes are a window to the soul. They tell you everything you need to know about their present condition. However, hands tell of a history and what those hands have done in the past; regardless of if it is good or bad. Facial shape might tell of ancestry or help distinguish people, but doesn’t tell of personal history.

But the only history that matters is when the hands of our Creator were made like hands of ours and nails were driven into the wood they rested against. All our mistakes and intentional evils, the blood of others that were on our hands, were moved onto those hands for three days.

It should have been my hands. It should have been your hands. Our hands are the same except that his hands told a story of innocence and righteousness, yet his are the ones that are nailed to a cross and sacrificed for our sake.

So I looked at my hands, and saw the blood of a lamb on my palms. The blood gradually faded away, but remember that the hands of the Creator were made like our own hands in order to redeem us all. Death was defeated a long time ago. Be afraid of it no longer.

 

 
Strength of the Dead

 

The Song of the Dead

 
How strong am I? How strong am I? How strong was I?

They say I died the coward’s way.
They say I died to make those who emotionally abused me sorry
They say I died just yesterday.
They say I died because I was not strong enough to keep living.
They say I died because I wanted revenge.

I died because I tried to live. Perhaps I wasn’t strong enough. Perhaps you weren’t strong enough to save me from myself. Perhaps I was strong enough to resist long enough and stay alive long enough to go out and eat dinner with you last week. Perhaps I was strong enough to just make you laugh one more time two days ago. Perhaps I was strong enough to impact millions of people with my letters my words my sentences my paragraphs my stories my life.

To look at me, and not see that I was already dead. How could you not see. How could you not see. You looked at me and smiled and said everything would be okay but look at me now look at me now and who I was. Do you still believe I wasn’t strong enough?

My own mind said I wasn’t good enough, my own society said I wasn’t good enough. I sat there at the window as the days drifted away and I knew that I was already dead. How much strength does it take to keep living even though you know you are already dead inside? How much strength does it take to live despite having been beaten over and over and over again?

More than you have. How dare you say that I was a coward. I was brave enough to live. I was brave enough to think “Maybe today will be better. Maybe today I’ll be alive. Maybe today someone will save me. Maybe today someone will notice. Maybe today I won’t be lonely.” Is it not bravery to look fear and death in the eye and keep living?

I died long ago… I did not die the coward’s way. I did not die to make anyone sorry. I did not die because I was not strong enough living. I did not die because I wanted revenge. I died long ago.

The loneliness. It flowed into me. Where were my friends? Who were my friends? What are friends? No connections, no branches, no way to make friends. Expectations were mountains building gradually onto my shoulders. What if I couldn’t climb the mountains that I was carrying? How do you even climb the mountain if it is resting on your back? I was strong enough to walk for decades with mountains on my shoulders. I was strong enough to stay alive when I was already dead. I died because I was already dead. I had already been killed long ago. The abuse. The loneliness. The failure. The expectations. The pain. Please make it stop. Please make it stop. I was strong enough to endure it for as long as I could but my own mind was against me.

I died because a life of emptiness is not something I am willing to endure any longer.
 

 
Falling Stars

Damn it all. News of another falling star reached my ears and I felt another punch in the gut as if they betrayed me along with their very own life force. But then I felt sad. So sad. Damn it all.

Every star is a beautifully created masterpiece, an epitome of artistry and complexity and feelings despite being simplistically designed to be the ultimate creation. I think that every star is unique and relevant and deserves intense love. They remind me of snowflakes; and by some sick irony stars are falling like snowflakes during a blizzard. Too much pain, too much sorrow, too much intense hurting and loneliness that seeps into my consciousness from millions of miles away. I wish those falling stars could know my heart beats with theirs, and if I could alleviate the star’s injuries by taking some of them upon myself I would do it in a heartbeat. Because every star deserves to be intensely loved. But damn it all, because stars are dimming before my very eyes and are about to fall into the galaxy where they will be lost forever, perhaps moved on towards a better place.

I’m no cosmic genius. I’m no supernatural being who can be with these people constantly to tell them that they are intensely loved, and are humans just like us who don’t have to be alone. But we are an omnipresent being that can tell someone that they are not alone. Young stars do not need to fall from the sparkling murals of darkness and light that floats above us. But damn it all, I want to save them all. Damn it all. I’m sick of watching as people stand and watch as stars fall from the sky like a meteor shower and do nothing but say “Well that was a pity.” What sickens me even more is that I’m watching through a pair of binoculars and can’t do anything because they are light years away and even if I could fly on the wings of an eagle, I could never catch them in time. All I can do is pray that we will not accept this any longer.

Every star in this Universe deserves to be intensely loved, and ever star in this Universe deserves to know that they are not alone. They have me, they have you, they have their Father up above who loves them even more than the real heavenly bodies. But damn it all. We as a society can no longer stand passively as people are hurting and scared and alone inside, and we can no longer stand passively on the sidelines as these stars fall from the sky.

Because every star is beautiful.
 

 
Eternal Grace

How could he love me so much?
The nails were held in my hands that were then driven into his.
I thought that the ship to salvation had sailed away long ago.
But then you spoke to me.
And you said this:

I Am Yours.

And You are Mine.

Those words gave me belonging. Those words gave me love. Those words gave me something that I hold onto now and will hold onto until my dying breath, until I am taken up and can hear your voice in person once again. It may have just been lyrics of a song but it’s been a long time and those words still have meaning. I knew that it was you speaking to me once I felt the calling through my full body and knew that you wanted me to see. You called me to live.

I will give everything to you. I will live for you. My mind was lost in the shadows of darkness and my fears of being alive and the considerations of death. I was too cowardly to ever commit the act, and too afraid of the pain I’d have caused in those I left behind, but the thoughts still floated within my imagination. But then you called me to live.

I Am Yours.

And You are Mine.

Those words gave me hope that I wasn’t as alone as I felt. The tone was full of love and a dove flew across the room and rested on my shoulders. It may have just been lyrics of song but it’s been a long time and those words still have meaning. They told me that there was unspeakable love, that I was not alone. My world felt like it was about to fall to pieces when I never was myself and I did what I despised and I feared to shed a tear in concern that the world would see me as too weak. No friends, no bonds, no connections, just a family that would not understand who I was inside. I lied over and over again saying that I was fine but really I was tearing apart within because of loneliness. It hurt so badly. My thoughts could not escape the prison of my head and there was no reprieve from this fear of leaving others behind and this inability to talk to anyone. But through all that clouded emotion, you set into motion the greatest journey of my life.

You called me to live.

You spoke the words that changed my world forever.

I Am Yours, and You are Mine. I love you more than anything, he said. And tears slipped out from my eyes despite my attempts to maintain composure. People surrounded me singing still, oblivious to the salvation taking place immediately next to them. But these thoughts have run through my head ever since: I don’t deserve this grace. I don’t deserve this mercy. I don’t deserve this love that drowns me in its overwhelming power.

And if I’m honest, I would have likely stopped believing if not for this voice. I feel dead inside sometimes, and often can’t hear your voice. Sometimes I doubt you exist. But then, in the midst of the valley of darkness and fears and when the world threatens to consume me…

I remember that love. I remember that I am Yours. And that You are Mine. That love, that voice, that feeling of being told to look and see, it was too undeniable and real to ever pretend that it did not exist. Not everything is clear, but one thing is so pristine and obvious that I could never deny it even in my darkest hour, even in all my pain, I felt something that I can never forget.

You loved me more than anything. You knew my every thought, you knew who I was, and you told me I was not alone. You said that I am your son, a part of your own family and someone dear to your heart. And you said that you are mine, a father and a friend who will love be unconditionally.

It may have just been the lyrics of a song but I know that you spoke those words to me.

I didn’t even know what song was playing originally. All I was thinking at the moment was how hard it would be to commit suicide with a kitchen knife, or what the easiest way to end my life would be. But then I felt a shiver run through me, but it wasn’t from cold or anything else like that. The shiver ran up from my spine, and moved through my whole body. Suddenly I felt that I should look up at the screen, and see what was next in the song. And that is when you said it, through the song that I didn’t even know till much later….

I Am Yours, and You are Mine.

And that’s when I knew that you loved me more than anything, and that I was not alone.
 

 
Phantom Tears

I am sorry.
You were crying.
I heard the tears hit the desk with millions of tears of their own;
I saw your pain; I felt your hurt.
I know I should’ve chosen to remain,
But instead I chose to vanish in the mist.
My words weren’t strong enough. I wasn’t strong enough.
Your willpower to keep living in this hell was the only thing strong enough.
Somehow a feeling in my soul told me that I couldn’t reach you with my words. No.
My words could flow out with the radiance of the sun and they wouldn’t be the ones to alleviate your sorrows.

You can call me sorry.
I don’t understand why I couldn’t speak.
Why could I not help you, when you needed someone most…

You were crying.
I saw the tears hit the desks with a sparkle of exiting life in each orb.
Suddenly I was paralyzed with the inability to help someone who needed me.
I couldn’t fulfill my vow to always be there. I became a writer to touch others… but failed.

My new name is Sorry.

You were there crying. My words were not the right words, and even if they were I was not the right person. How could I even imagine the pain you are in? How could I even comfort one who I’ve never spoken to in my life? How can I undo this paralysis and help someone who needs me?

Then someone walked behind you and put a hand on your shoulder. No. Not a hand on your shoulder; a hand on your heart. A hand in your hand. You are not alone. You have friends willing to sacrifice anything for you; friends willing to do anything for you. My thoughts weaved across the same paths as the new someone said exactly what my voice couldn’t.

You are not alone. You are loved. You don’t deserve this much pain, but you can get through it. You have friends who will do anything for you. Hang in there. You will survive.

Then she just held your hand as you cried. And it was something I could never do. My words failed me, my emotions failed me, my courage failed me, I failed myself. I failed you.

But you will survive.
You were there crying, but one day those tears will be phantoms of the past.
Because you will survive. You will survive. You will survive.
 

Where are you now?

As I looked out through the dreary grey windows of the car, I couldn’t help but think of the link between me and you. I still have no knowledge of what it is and it’s a hill that I will choose to climb some other day. But when I looked out into the sorrowful sky, I couldn’t help but wonder….

Where are you now…

I haven’t seen you for days, for weeks, for months, and you’re starting to scare me. I didn’t dare to try and bear my heart to you when you were hurting and now I don’t know what happened and I’m afraid. Afraid that you… might be gone forever. I stepped out of the car and into the rain and the droplets slid down my cheeks becoming silver streaks on a face full of bittersweet.

I’m worried that you might not be coming back. I’m worried that I turned my back on you when you were at your low moments and now it’s too late for this storm to vanish. Society tells me that I shouldn’t feel guilty because it’s not my responsibility to know the exact date of when you fell off the face of the earth or my duty to mourn your disappearance when I didn’t know you at all.

But I think I knew you once I saw your tears glide down your face and slowly shattering on the hard desktop reflecting your own image back at you. It haunts me even now that I never said anything despite not being the right person to say what needed to be stated. Yet in this drizzling weather filled with obscured skies that cover all hope of a bright future, I wonder…

Where are you now…

Are you even alive? I care more for you than you will ever know at this point after seeing your pain. No person should be stained with that much blood from abuse and injuries that are caused by what others choose and how they decide to break their promises and break your heart along with them. People say it’s part of life but why do we accept someone who chooses to take and doesn’t give love in return. Why do we condone this behavior? It’s your fault, we say, for being naive. “Fooled you once, shame on me, fooled you twice, shame on you,” they say, but if you delay for just a moment and try to think for a second I think you’ll find that it’s shame on you either way. Why do we think it’s okay to let this pain happen….

Is this really the world I am part of?

The rain continued to fall. The tears continued to fall. The grey skies hung overhead mourning the dead. There was no thunder, no lightning. It was just bittersweet. Serenity became one with me and I’ve done what I could but I need to know, because right now, I can’t help but desperately wonder where you are now. We each are endowed with two feet to walk to others, a mouth to talk and utter words giving life, two hands to expose the clutter our hearts hide behind, and one soul that can tell those in pain that they are not alone. Even now, the thought floats in my mind.

Where are you now….

 
Just Another Bittersweet

I'm lazy so I'm just giving you my google link to the Google Document.  :ph34r: Unfortunately, Tanki Forums doesn't let me put the actual link here that goes directly to the document, so you'll have to actually put the link below into the search bar yourself. I'll probably put the article here sometime to avoid the hassle, but for now, humor me.  ;) 
 
goo.gl/hU2aZF
 

 

Every Day I Despair

 

 

 

goo.gl/7Unhf7

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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I will doubtless add on to this if I become inspired to write any further pieces like these. None of these were really "by choice", they just tend to come to me in times of sadness and dramatic music and sleepless nights. These are all based on real experiences, and you have likely noticed some common themes and events and topics between these. Yes, this is me. I have never had thoughts of suicide or self-harm since the day mentioned in "Eternal Grace", and I still don't know what happened to the girl from "Where are you now" or how the girl is who tried to kill herself and caused me to write "Falling Stars". There is so much pain in this world, but remember: There is pain in the night, but joy comes at dawn.
 

 

You are not alone.

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Edited October 18, 2018 by Blackdrakon30

[Tofu 6,773]

waw

[REDOUANE78190 836]

Nice article very good Good Luck

[mydoom.exe 5,154]

Exceptionally written articles brought together by a thought-provoking title. Read at least three of these works before, but they never fail to impress.

 

Bravo.

[LIMITFULL 1,793]

Brilliant man.

:wub:

[maryam98 1,171]

'Hands' doesn't mean anything to me, but the other parts were absolutely superb.

Edited July 3, 2017 by maryam98

[Cheif_Master 2]

Good Luck!

[Blackdrakon30 2,943]

EDIT (8/02/17) - So uh, I suppose this is the first time I've ever bumped an article really. And before anyone flips out and calls me a hypocrite or something weird, I don't honestly think this is a big issue since the article is fairly recent, and quite honestly, this will be the last bumping I do on this article. 
 
Anyways, I added a new piece called "Just Another Bittersweet". Since I'm a little preoccupied right now, I just put the link in the spoiler, so you'll have to actually just go via the link rather than reading it here. I apologize for the inconvenience and etc, but I'll put the full article into the spoiler sometime later.
 
Feel free to check here every once in a while since I'll continue to add more articles as time goes on. Probably just one every month or two.
 
EDIT (8/17/17) - I'm just going to be posting the Google Links in the spoilers now, because it's a real hassle putting the articles into this page over and over. Spoilers breaking, reformatting, you know. Just the usual. I hope it's not too much of an inconvenience. Added the piece "Every Day I Despair". I'd say hope you enjoy, except his isn't necessarily a piece made for enjoyment... more something to make people think. You can check this post whenever to see if I add anything new; I'll keep this post updating like log of sorts.
 
EDIT (10/02/17) - Haven't updated this log for a bit, but I recently added "The Writer's Words", "Collision", and "Endings" to the Musings of the Living. "Collision" is honestly one of my favorites, but all of these pieces here carry just as much meaning to me as the others. I just like how the beat pattern turned out. "Endings" turned out somewhat reminiscent "Just Another Bittersweet", although they were based off similar thoughts. Anyways, that's all for now!
 
EDIT (10/24/17) - Sorry people, got a little lax on the changelog. Added "Truth vs Beliefs"  to the Google Document linked in the article; it's one that I wrote right after "The Writer's Words" but hadn't felt like adding it till recently. It's another piece like "The Telos of Life" that I wrote for the "Repercieved" project.
 
EDIT (01/05/18) - New Year, hurray for the start of 2018. The previous year was one of my best, and a fateful ten years from when some of the events that inspired me occurred. At any rate, I didn't update this for some time by accident, but a few more pieces have been added to the document. "Thoughts on Hesitation," "A Sailor at Sea," and "Every Bitter Step" are the new things I've written, the last one being something I wrote just today. Stay strong people, and may you have a good year.
 
EDIT (10/18/18) - The Musings of the Living have reached completion. No more pieces will be added to this collection, and you can find the final version in the linked google document. At any rate, here is its final edited conclusion, to replace the one that's in this forums post: 
 

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My time of writing this has ended. It has become time for a new stage in life, though my thoughts have not changed. I now pass my baton to anyone who reads this in the future, and pray that you will find the strength to stand up for the weakened, and help make this world a place where we are not alone. Most of these pieces weren’t really written intentionally; they  came to me in times of sadness, dramatic music, inspiration, or sleepless nights. These are all based on real experiences and thoughts, and you’ve likely noticed some common themes, topics, and events between them. Yes, this was me. I have never had thoughts of suicide or self-harm since the day I wrote about in “Eternal Grace”, and I still don’t know how the girl is doing who tried to kill herself and caused me to write Falling Stars. But it’s also for you. It’s always been for you, and for everyone out there, even as much as it was for me. There is so much pain in this world, but remember: There is pain in the night, but joy comes at dawn. 
 
You are not alone.
 

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Edited October 18, 2018 by Blackdrakon30

[GENERAL_H_A_M_Z_A_9 576]

One of the best articles I have read in awc.  :wub:

[fury987 604]

Nice bro good article

[maryam98 1,171]

Each time I read ‘Eternal Grace’ I feel like crying, it’s my favourite that I read so far,

Edited October 25, 2017 by Blackdrakon30
I know the feeling.