A tale that writes with the days, a story that is not ending.
There was a time when writing my own tale seemed to be something of an impossibility. My story, my journeys, had only just begun. I myself did not know the words for the pages .
I am still that same wanderer, but I have traveled down many long roads. I have laughed among men. I have lain upon a lady’s breast. I have smelled the sweet aroma of spring, and time after time I have chased the setting sun to the West.
My story, if told, could not be written in any book. Books are for tales, morals and heroes. My life cannot be categorized. It has been a road of many turns. If you applied a simple method of storytelling to a life such as this, the plot would thicken until it devoured its own pages.
I once met a woman with truer words I’ve yet to hear.
“So your past haunts you, but here you stand with your life in front of you. I believe you should turn around and walk forward. If perchance you stumble upon the shadows of your life, stand with them. Wait until night, then move forward again. Live your life, Tristan.”
I could tell you about my childhood. I vaguely remember a boy who cried himself to sleep not knowing why. Ages later I recalled hands forced upon him, ripping the tears from his eyes. A boy forced to grow alone except for a few angels voices. There was a sibling that kept him safe though he remembers a different day and a different role. There was a far off family, but even though distance reminds him differently, they now seem closer than ever. It’s as if it was a dream, but that dream still haunts me and it impacts my decisions day to day.
It is cogent to talk about my changes and how I grew strong; how I held onto rebellion and traveled alone. But with all strengths comes a sense of despair. A newfound need for passion, for understanding. A need for exposition, for all of me to be explained and not hidden away beneath layers of hazy intrigue.
A truth will carry you far, but in a place where deceit becomes truth, one must choose their words wisely. I combine my stories with small bits of rhyme, it helps when writing to pass the time.
A man who stands and refuses to agree or has strong feelings and passions needs to understand the concept I now know. Humble one’s self.
My life has encountered so many different types of personalities, but with them came cookie cutters and molded people alike. Until the day I meet a person who’s flawed; a person with their own passions, desires, and needs. A person who sees beyond words and reads the stories of the world, able to apply them to his/her own tale, I shall continue to choose to follow my path alone.
I walk this world willingly. I look forward to large goals and achievements, but unlike the ranger who sifts through the sand and tastes each grain in attempt to plan his travels, I do not have a mouth filled with dirt and false hope. I see things in a way that (one would hope) are true. Regardless of pain or personal pleasure, my needs are much deeper. To pain others is not my wish, but I am sardonic and I do have a sharp tongue. I will debate you to death if you are naïve. I will scream for my ideals until I am blue. I don’t believe in an answer before it’s proven to be true. My humor is dry, my passions sometimes hidden, but my world is for all and I will happily let you in… but remember this well because I will say it only once; my layers are deep. If you want more than the surface, you will need to earn trust, not simple acquaintance.
I would not call myself a cynic, but rather someone who enjoys the daily pleasures bestowed to us from birth. I see a picture larger than my own, I tie in events and try to knot them so when I am faced with choices I have a tightly bound rope of my life to utilize and climb until the answer is found. If there is no rejoinder, I climb further and look for a place to swing to another and look for aid outside myself.
If I were to summate my personality and life in a line, it would be simple, “I am the fool from an epic play. I say what I want but in the right way. I hold nothing back, my tongue leads me. I see more than you think, I jest at your faults but you do not get riled, I am but a fool in a world closed in by walls. I walk outside and enjoy the sounds of nature, the peasants, and return for the king alike. I sit with the animals and am afraid of bees, but I myself am just a fool who ‘knows nothing.’”
So in a simple recapitulation of this summation, my life is moving forward. I mostly travel alone but look forward to seeing friendly faces. If you gain my trust, I will give you a new and invasive world. By this I speak of not a negative connotation, but exciting and different and filled with laughter. Our adventures will be grand. The bloodshed will not be from our veins, but instead the blood of those who get in our way. It will be a bond like no other, friendships to carry horses in their daily journeys, sweeping even the fastest steed to the side.
Through my eyes I see the world; through your eyes can you see mine?
