(verb) to settle or find a solution to; to disperse, subside or heal; to cause discord to pass into a concord; to decide firmly on a course of action; to turn into a different form when seen more clearly
(noun) the firm determination to do something
I asked a friend of mine what makes life worth living. All around me I see suffering, I feel suffering. Some days I am numb to it, other days I am overwhelmed by it. If your soul is a timeless projection of Higher consciousness, which I deeply believe, then what's to say I couldn't pull the plug on this life and try again with the next? His answer to me was resolve. Then later unity.
Point of Attack
In a script the point of attack is the initial problem that brings the protagonist into the main conflict.
My point of attack, as is the point of attack for many of my peers, is money, or better said, my lack of it. I am privileged enough to have a roof over my head, (although it leaves very little room for more than survival), and food in my stomach (although I hardly ever have enough to eat enough). I have clothes on my back (yet they all sag from the 30 some odd pounds I've lost since high school). Life is a bag of contradictions, and those contradictions are reflected in everyday human nature. I want to strive but I want comfort. I want to succeed but every success requires a series of failures. Inevitably, it is the mind that decides if the main confrontation is worth it, after-all, this kind of point of attack was enough to bring saints to their knees.
Premise
What is there to be done then, when this initial problem makes life so unsavory, at times unbearable, that not living it at all seems the more attractive option? We cannot pretend suicide is simply cowardice. It is a cry for freedom. It is a cry for peace. It is an act completely done for self. In asking myself this, I look to the premise of my story. In a script, the premise is what the creator is aiming to prove. What do I want to prove with this life? Do I have the resolve to prove it? Is my premise worth the hardship of conflict? Let me define it clearly, my premise is purpose and my purpose is freedom. In that case, suicide might prove my premise, but it lacks the fervor of rising conflict and confrontation that makes any story worth proving.
Confrontation
In a script, the confrontation is its longest aspect. It is the part of the story with rising conflict, crisis, and climax, the meat and bones that enrapture a reader. I am moving into my life's confrontation, that period of time where I bounce back and forth and side to side as I try to figure my way through purpose. It is overwhelming to feel, and I oftentimes contemplate ending the feeling, as my resolve is chipped at constantly by the vultures of my winding, rather negative, thoughts. I am amidst confrontation and it is bringing me to my knees, but I read somewhere that I am now in the perfect position to pray. When I did, I got that phone call; that call to consider clearly the strength of my resolve and the beauty of union. If put hand in hand, to prove I am free, I could kill myself and be free in that way, it is something I truly believe. But then my resolve would only be as strong as that. How else can I prove my freedom to myself? Through song and dance? Through fashion and culture? Through the written word?
Resolution
The resolution of a script is where all loose ends are tied up. The strength of my resolve determines my resolution. You are only as strong as you believe yourself to be. My freedom is the only thing I know in my heart is mine. If I've resolved to prove it to myself, at the epitome of my strength, then to give up on level 19 would not make my premise worth proving. What is worth the suffering I see, the pain I feel, this crushing grief and isolation? I slept on it and cried about it and the only conclusion I can come to is: my uninhibited self expression. I have been blessed with so many ways to feel free while living this life, and while that feeling oftentimes eludes me, there is a vision imprinted somewhere in my heart of me turning this suffering to joy. When I asked my friend if life was worth living, we went around in circles pontificating the facts of the matter. Inevitably, it is or it's not, the choice is completely mine; but he pointed out to me the import of resolution, of that end goal, that image in my head where I've unified myself and I've unified others and I've gained wisdom and I've given wisdom back. I can do that, in a way, if I'm dead, but it won't be a very satisfying story if I go right now. If my premise is freedom, my resolution must prove it succinctly, totally, and satisfyingly. Would death make me satisfied? Maybe for this conscious mind; but my soul would simply conjure up another body to finish the story it created long before this conscious mind had access to it. Therefore, I must resolve myself to prove freedom to my soul, not my mind, and therefore, death by my own hand seems a silly option.
What is my resolve? I am determined to feel completely free. Unshackled. Uninhibited. While living and being and seeing and feeling. Now how do I get there...
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