Dear future

Hello dear future.

I started to give life to my story and its characters as some form of refuge for myself. I did what I had to do. It was somewhat instinct and what I write now might be the exegesis of that, years after contemplation: I saw no way for myself to be able to connect to others. I was torn apart, and no one seemed to be interested in dirty rags. I was too much work. Or would have been. And I agree. I was alone and it was either working on myself or getting rid of me and – yes – it was a lot of work.

Only some time later did I start to realise that I was giving my problems to said characters. And because, as I assumed, no one would be interested to read a story where problems just disappear with a flick of the finger, I had to start thinking about solutions. Stringent solutions.

Nowadays I consider my intention refined. I write to offer others hope. Good, if they just have fun. That’s, of course, fine as well. I may be (or might have been, when you read this) a fool to believe that my writing could change something for the better. But I consider it the least I could try with it being the best skill I have. My stories might not have been the solution to all the suffering in this world; I am sorry, I can’t aim this high. But I would at least like them to be portals to another world where my readers can immerse themselves in. I wanted to weave my tales with such skill, that hopefully no steppingstone will hurl the reader back to the real world until they decide to do so by freedom of choice. And I thought to myself that, maybe, just maybe, it might give them enough strength to return and face whatever burden is wearing them down. Or let it at least be a hand they can hold on to, a friend that accompanies them keeping the loneliness away, until the sun rises again. I can’t be there for everyone. I’m only a humble human. But maybe my stories can. Maybe they can be that friend who they need, to gift them with a soul-warming smile.

People go to churches, mosques, synagogues, or what else you want to add to that list in no ranking or particular order, to pray for aid or to receive it. Why can’t my stories be somewhat like that? I understand that those are two entirely different things and I respect that. All I want to say is, that my intentions are supposed to be good. And I’m phrasing it like that because, sadly, sometimes not even giving it your all appears to be enough. But it’s the best one can do, and I believe that shouldn’t be punishable.

I would like others to grow from my writing, as I have grown from it.

Or, just have fun. As I’ve stated before, that’s very much fine as well.

With that in mind, I ask you with all my heart: Please remember this should the offer arise to use my work to further any kind of gain. Let it be mainly for that, of which I told you. Please don’t poison that life with the sole purpose to aggregate fame, money or the likes. As far as my knowledge goes, we all only live this one life. No amount of money or fame might change that. We will all wither at some point and leave memories behind.

Don’t let yours be of a person who poisoned such intention.

And let mine be that I was good at fighting…

…and that I hopefully fought for something worthwhile.

                               ~ Federklinge a.k.a. Silvio