Chapter 2: Because
Because we have to get that which dwells in the deep swirling pit of darkness inside the very center of all we are, that, we have to get that out. Do you know what we mean? Probably not. Thats ok too.
Will we write with the eloquence of an author? No. There is nothing eloquent about what I have to say, and nothing fragrant about pretty flowers covering a stinking rotten corpse. Fact is, there is no eloquence to cover such things as this, and no pretty flowers to cover the stench they leave behind either.
We need not your pity, or approval, or whatever it is that you think people with a tale to tale, tell their tale for. People tell their tale not for the reader, but for themselves, in a desperate attempt to rid themselves of that dreaded scream that rises from the soles of our feet, screeching through every fiber in our body and is bitten back behind the smile we show you every day of our happy lives. We hide, from you, from them, from us.
Perhaps we should explain ourselves to start of with. Perhaps not.
Do we write this for you? Do we write this for us? Who knows, not I.
Is it important what you think? Perhaps, perhaps not.
Why do we write? Because.
If I don’t do this, then I am no better than everyone who “was not there” to help me when I needed help. It’s the one thing I can do, give hope to those that I know think its hopeless. I just want you to know, there is hope, there are people albeit few of them out there who will “be there”.