I'm not usually the "sharing" kind. I'm more of a "keep it to myself," and more to the point, a loner. And I believe that it isn't any coincidence that I'm a writer; not as a result of being a loner, but because they naturally go hand in hand.......at least that's how I see it.
To be a writer, for the most part, involves being alone for long stretches of the day (if you have the luxury of time available) or at the very least, X amount of hours during the day. Sometimes locked away in some place, or sitting on some semi crowded public place-yet, your mind itself is far away in some world within your brain, spending time with all of those characters within you. I can honestly say that I've spend now more time with the characters within me than with the actual people that constitute my circle of friends/relatives etc.
I'm a loner because I don't spend as much time with them or with anyone else period, and yet, I'm not alone because I'm "hanging out" with those whose entire life lies in the infinite realm of my imagination, and they all are, patiently waiting for their turn to be brought to life, so to speak, on papper.
As crazy as it sounds, it is these characters who know the real me, who share my trials and tribulations, just as I share theirs.
But every now and then, I feel the need to share with those outside my head, and in these internet times, the world. Such is the need now.
I brother of mine died, and another has fallen ill, and at this point, it doesn't look good. Sometimes life beats us up physically, sometimes emotionally, and though I ran into some crazy knife-wielding old man in the subway and he cut my arm, it is my heart, my very soul that feels beaten to a pulp. My head feels like it is about to explode any day now. The pain of having lost a brother is even harder to bear when the thought of losing another hammers away inside my head.
I've tried to write, to escape, but nothing has come. All those characters within me have left me alone, which is probably the reason why I'm here sharing a slice of my personal life. It is as if they know this is something that you can't run from, that you must confront and deal with it. I don't believe, I know I'm tough, and that I will learn to make my peace with it and feel better in time; it is just that I've never experience a lost this close to me, and I wasn't prepare for it to happen so soon, so suddenly. Threating to occur again in my immediate future, leaving no time to heal in between both.
I sent a copy of VIOLET HILL to a magazine editor this week, something that would have otherwise lift my spirit, but it's significance didn't even register. I even visited a church-first time in a while-but all I found was a bunch of tourist failing to behave themselves at the house of God, frustrating the clery at hand.
I'm at a loss, there's not much I can do. I may find it at some point, but for now, peace eludes me.