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I never leave without making a scene. This shall be no different.
It is time to stop writing. This is the last blog post. There will be no other.
Likely, very few people in the world care about this. Don’t worry. All will be well.
The truth be told, everything is different now. Everything is the same. Same height. Same weight. Same intemperate disposition. But everything is different. Different dreams. Different desires. Different words.
I truly enjoyed writing what is written on this blog. I came to discover a simple fact: writers are very selfish people, because they write for themselves. Well, at least I did. I did not write a single blog post thinking, “You know, I bet so-and-so needs to learn/reflect/read something like this.” Nope. Not me. Everything I wrote, I wrote because I wanted to write about it. I was writing blog posts with absolutely no one in the world aware of the fact that I was writing. That continued to the end.
It is an odd thing to be so selfish when writing. But not all of my writing is selfish. I write letters to friends. I write books for students. I write messages to people who need them. However, this blog has been a very selfish adventure. It has been selfish mainly because it has been about me. I have sought only to understand, not to communicate. I want to understand my experiences, my past, my present, my future, my friends, my work, my play. Well, perhaps it is not so fair to call all of my writing “selfish”. “Introspective” is much nearer the mark.
And alas, we come to the reason why I can no longer write on this blog. It is because I am changing. The very self that I wish to understand is undergoing a very significant change, and it is happening hourly. Two things to note. One, this is something that I expected. This is not a weird experience. I knew that when I walked into the walls of this seminary, things would begin to change (though I had no clue how rapidly and how intensely and how intimately things would change). Second, everything that is happening to me is something that I have asked for. I wanted these changes to occur, and my dreams are coming true.
Can I tell you what my dream was? Well, I am divided on this issue. I don’t want to tell you because I think words will fail to express what I am thinking. However, I do want to tell you because perhaps you may be dreaming it too. I do not know. This blog post is not planned, and we are about to find out, in this next sentence that I write, what my decision will be.
Ok, I am going to tell you my dream. I want to go home.
That is it. I want to go home. And my home is not here. This, in fact, is the great dilemma that is tearing my soul into a new one (remember: things are destroyed not only to eliminate something that is old, but also to build something new). My home is not here, and yet I still live HERE. My heart is at home, and my being is on earth. This is causing a rupture.
So I am killing myself. No, not with a gun. This is not physical suicide. It is spiritual suicide. I am killing myself intentionally. Permanently. JOYFULLY.
What am I talking about? I don’t know. One example must suffice, for I do not want the Police called into my room.
Right now, the Colts are playing the Jets in the wildcard game. I love football. I love the Colts. I hate the Jets. Thus I SHOULD be watching the game. But I am not. Why not? Because I am killing myself. I decided to read instead. Old Tony: brutally murdered. New Tony: feebly beginning. It all starts with the choice. This is a big one.
In fact, it was in the midst of this reading that I knew I could never write another blog post, on this blog, again. Too much is changing. It would be like trying to write a novel about a war during the middle of the battle. You aren’t getting the story because the story is changing. I am in the middle of suicide, so I can’t really write about it right now. Sorry. I am busy jumping off of cliffs.
Is this a stupid decision? I don’t think so. Right now, my friend is in the middle of Officer Candidate School with the United States Marine Corps, and I can guarantee you he is getting remade. And the first process of remaking is destruction. My friend has chosen suicide. And I am so proud of him for doing so.
So I am heading home, and I can’t take this type-writer for the journey. Perhaps one day, I will write my tales and share them with others. But this tale has come to a close. There are others just beginning, but I don’t know how they will end. All I know is that I want to go home. I know not what may come as I travel along the way, but I do not walk alone. I know that there is One whom I must follow. And I have already told you His name.
“Do you feel any need to leave the Shire now? Now that your wish to see the elves has come true?” Frodo asked Sam.
“Yes, sir. I don’t know how to say it, but after last night I feel different. I seem to see ahead, in a kind of way. I know we are going to take a very long road, into darkness; but I know I can’t turn back. It isn’t to see Elves now, nor dragons, nor mountains, that I want. I don’t rightly know what I want: but I have something to do before the end, and it lies ahead, not in the Shire. I must see it through, sir, if you understand me.”
The Lord of the Rings, Book I, Pg 87