Style

My new aim is to try and change the style in which I write. I don't think it is achieveable, even now, I announce my intention with the same voice I communicate an all too familar and sick dialogue. This wretched voice is with me, presumably at all times. The cynic. Such a comical voice, if it were but a part of a satirical play, would almost be funny, however it is the voice of me. It never sleeps, it grows a little more sicker with each passing observation. It glances at my opening remark and almost gags with its smirk, squinting its knowing, cold reptile eyes; disgusted with my vain attempt to appear a little more optimistic or dare I say "normal". Is that why I desire a change in style, to be a little more fashionable? In folly I endeavour to be savoured with the "in" crowd, as if it were a fine wine one could swirl upon the tongue with the sweet taste of belonging.

I partook in a creative writing course a couple of years ago although I never did quite finish it, due to sickness, if you could label a self induced psychosis, a sickness. Perhaps it was the same sickness that speaks to me perpetually, however that is by the way, the instructor, or teacher in that class instructed that we maintain a level of positivism in our writing. How so? with the voice of wretchedness that lurks behind and within the hall ways and 'neath the frayed rug of perception? Is it possible to convey a postive embodiment of thought with a scourge of cynicism, which seems to suffocate in its ferocity?

I know it was a silly, passing moment where I forgot that the cynic is "I", it is the me. It is not the voice of the wretched, it is the voice of me. Besides, why would I want to change this dialogue or style. So that I could entice a more liberal following? A following period? Have I a desire to perpetuate some cult that I need a following? Is my self delusion getting the better of me? I need an analysis of the motivation at play here. If I were to sell my soul in the name of positivist idelogy would I then gain acceptance, a level of self acceptance because I could possibly attract a readership of this blog? Would I then feel as if I belong? Would I feel better because my mind will be placated with the blind reassurance of optimism? Or would the self deceit of postivism that is fabricated for the benefit of seeking approval result in more anguish? Underneath it all lies a desperation, this I can see. What am I desperate for? What else is there but Love. All I really want is to be loved. It all boils down to that four letter word.

Alas, I can not purchase it with a few positive words or a change in style.