Author S. K. Nicholas

The romance of cold, somber evenings. The coming together of damned lovers as the world dissolves behind closed curtains. Others play out the same paths. Those familiar ways of being we all know so well. They’re told what’s expected of them, and they deliver every time. They do it without even knowing, and as I swallow a mouthful of warm beer, becoming just like them is what I fear most. It nearly happened, and a part of me even wanted it to, but just before it did, I ran. Those lovers understood my desires, yet they never had time for my heart. Love as we know it is about fitting in, about pairing yourself up with another. Don’t arouse suspicion. Be like everyone else, and lose yourself in the glory of not being alone. But being alone is the only thing that will make you stronger. If you’re too afraid to spend time with the dust, then whoever you cling to is only a temporary cure. Be yourself. Know yourself. Disregard social etiquette. Throw away its meaning, and make up your own instead. Never listen to anyone’s advice, ever. Anyone who ever said anything to me was doing it with their own interests at heart. Get a better job. Give up writing. Stop being strange. In essence- cease to be who you want to be, and become like the rest. It’s taking you too long to write, they say. Just publish something and get it out of the way- as if it were so simple to put your guts down onto paper. As if it were so easy to tear your insides out for all to read. They know so much about society, but so little about the soul. Creation for them is only meaningful if it looks good and makes money. The only passion they care for is the kind that gets them laid. The kind that gets us through the night when no one else is looking- they couldn’t care less about. Yet long after they’ve been and gone, the nights still shine, and they’ll continue to do so until the air in my lungs ceases to be. I’ll put it all on the line for these feelings, for they can’t be denied. Romance of the soul, that’s what I preach, and it won’t ever change. It’s never put any money in my pocket, but it feeds me dreams that can’t be bought. That’s the wonder. The magic of standing firm in a world that wants only for you to bow down to false mirrors.