We are created by ourselves

We create who we are

We imagine who we are not

We imagine to create

Creation is only a mere glimpse to what truly exists.

What does our mind hide from us? People with multiple personality disorder are

usually traumatized by something, but mentally cannot handle it, so they, or their mind

creates a new person. Doesn't that defy genetics? Or is it only one personality showing up

at once? But if it's only one personality why do they have names, and how do they know

everything that happens while the "true" person doesn't. Where do they go? How do we

get beat by our own minds? Is there a mind and a soul? Or does the mind create the soul?

What if the mind decides it makes a mistake and makes more souls? Are we tricked into

believing we control the mind, or does the mind really not merely control us, but create

us?

My thoughts are scrambling inside my head. I wish I could realize them and step

into my own world. A world of beauty and adventure; where true love reigns over-all,

but their is hurt and hard work that comes with it. A balance.

I see things, my paper is the side of a woman’s face with curves and lines that

appear from old age. The shadow on my hand comes from the pencil I hold in my hand.

The pencil I write this with, the one that connects feelings from mind to words. The

shadow is a fear, a spider crawling on my hand.

Feelings come and go, what they mean is an enigma. A comfort, but an

uneasiness molded together. I wished to write a glorious imaginative story, but my

ponderings got in the way. It seems I cannot chose what to write, what my mind holds

controls me.

Someone told me that writing was easy, and I argued then. I don’t anymore,

writing is easy. Creating is something totally different. Creating images in the minds of

others, drawing in their own emotions and pain does not come writing, it is creating an

atmosphere. I am a creator, I create worlds. I mold things to be what the are or are not. I

see things as they were, could, or are.

Adventure thrills me, the unknown makes me curious. Beauty and elegance

grasps at my soul and forces me to see the grace in darkness and in light. To see the even

balance in good and bad. To have a vision of simple elegance.

There are places in my mind I want so badly to exist in my world. Things I create,

why can they not exist? I created, I made, by all definition it does exist. But what truly

exists? How much have we not discovered, and how much have we discovered but

forgotten. Lost among all the rubble and ashes, buried beneath mounds or dirt and

skeletons. Burnt because some are scared of what we can accomplish if we use our minds

to their full potential.

Why do people accept everything they are told because that’s what the majority

thinks, and that’s what one person said. It’s all to do with comfort, people need to know,

to believe things are sable. They always need an explanation that makes sense to them. If

their is no explanation, they create one, and never look for the true solution.