Fictitious- An important post, for me, in nine hundred eleven words.

I was working on a project when I thought back to a mistake I made on Friday. I made a mistake that has been haunting me for the last couple of days, that has slowly lead to my slow demise into madness, if it was not for this blog. I am still trying to figure out what I did wrong, or if it was me who made the mistake in the first place. But this all ties in to ancient history from the first day of my middle school, sitting there on the steps of my old elementary school, waiting for the bus. And it was this big mistake that made me start my blog, with my first, rather emotional topic.

This is not a follow up to that post. This is my apology, for the person victimized by my mistakes. But I pose a question to you, Do those first moments of meeting a person for the first time really decide how you are going to act towards them years later, when they try to restart, to build something greater than any one person can hold?

You claimed to have suffered from anxiety in the past, but the emotions I have felt over the last days have trumped anything ever felt by a human being before. I know emotion, I know how hard it can hurt, but even then, it rips your mind apart, leaving you a husk of what you once were. I know, I am still struggling to hang on to what little I have left, of my sanity, of my mind, of me.

A psychologist would call this post-traumatic stress, but I would ask him/her, where was my trauma? I would say, the only person who can know my mind is me, because my mind is radically different than any other I've seen. Everyone is different, everyone has a weak point, something that if exposed, tears them to pieces. I pretend to be the steel fortress, impenetrable. That is a lie.

We all try to be someone we aren't, and for me, that person I try most to be, is human. Just for once. One instant. But mistakes are made, and that dream is crushed forever. That dream that burns a hole in your mind, that dream you feel so close to attaining, but you know you have so far to fall. I have fallen off my ladder, and then fallen farther.

This is when a psychologist would call me just mad. Nothing compares to the madness of one's own mind, when that person knows there is no return. Almost no return. That is what this is. This is the truth, not disguised by cleverly placed words, or by political footing. This is what binds my mind to the ground, this sad, sad truth.

I know there is no train waiting to take me away, I missed the last one. I now know the truth, I know who I am, and how that differs from who I want to be, and how that differs from what you want me to become. I am that man in the corner, who ignores everyone, and who is ignored by everyone. And when that man does something bold, Everyone pushes him down again.

And I see the problems with our world. And I see now the solutions. Those people in those corners, they are the keys. I am in the corner, the forever pit. The place called by many as the location of the souls of the damned. But I see an exit, not for those with me, but for those souls who have no escape from the pit of Tartarus. This gate of souls, only the worthy and the bold can pass through.

I cannot. Not yet. I am not bold, I am not courageous, I am not strong, I am not smart. I am better. It is that which keeps me bound here, chained to a rock for the birds to eat, because I gave fire. Fire they no longer have. Fire I no longer have.

And now I ask one thing of the person this post is written for. You know who you are, because I have identified myself, and you, clearer than the air that we breathe. We are only human, we make mistakes, and mistakes make us. What I ask, is a way out of this fog, a way into the clear. A way for me to be both the man I want to be, and the man who you want me to be. And I will always be there, to catch you when you fall, as I have done so much. There is nothing else I can say. Will you accept this? Will you accept my apology for being only human? Thank you for all that you have given me. Thank you for all I have given you. I am truly, truly sorry.

And now I am nothing more than a breeze, carried on the wind, a second class citizen. But maybe one day, I'll find that train. Until then, I hope these kind words, and the emotions given in them will help, because they have helped me. The emotions, the truth can destroy, but I want it to build. I want it to build us a castle upon a hill, where I can watch the world, and be watched by the world. But now, I run short on time. Sorry.

          –Adrian Wyllie, The Writer