Situation

I would like to introduce this line saying a few words over error. This phantasm of creation which declares itself King of our spirit, commander of all rules. The universe it's an absurd sequence of errors. How common became to speak you are wrong. 

I write to deal with mistake and delusion. My aim is to commit a series of grammar and syntax errors. The text has a purpose. It wants to communicate a message. To get the code of this message, the other person must know what is wrong. 

Communication is only possible because of mistakes. Reading a text is like filtering its errors. Significant. How do we get this magical significant? How one can certainly assure that what is written is this or that?

Hence we all have knowledge of English grammar we are playing the same game. If I dare to say "Go fuck yourself", you know I'm offending you directly. 

How do you get this significant, how do you extract an iconic symbol of a simple sentence? By having the words carved in your heart? Perhaps because we were through school system? How do you get the signs of the text for yourself and claim to be the master of interpretation? Because you know error. 

How can I judge error? Making a lot of mistakes is the best part of the creativity process and free intellectual production. Since I'm not a candidate to lord Sith, what I meant is there no one to guide me in the purpose of making mistakes, I take the chances and consequences and eventual risks.

Life is a constant risk. The error. The essence of this dramatic point of view. A few more lines and we still do not understand each other. Most of my errors are debt of my inaccuracy with English language. 

To do what I wish it's necessary to commit errors. Errors is the part which forms the whole system. Every system without rules is faded to be destroyed. Discipline arises freedom. Grammar is the best example. From a couple of rules I can speak with anyone who knows it. It's a system forged by rules and sustained for them. The laws of language give me liberty to speak in a manner I never thought it was possible. I never thought I could write without thinking in my own mother tongue. 

Sometimes I'm thinking I'm going insane, because I really think in English, specially when I am writing. I can make mistakes and not feel guilty about it. The process of learning is formed and shaped on errors. In this matter of speaking, of course. I do not feel guilty of making syntax mistakes.

This is an original communication, of a very original person. A person which had learned and growth under mistakes. The mistake of love. The fatal perfume of friendship.

It's one ability I own. I do not care for mistakes. To make mistakes is to be human. I like to feel human. I like to feel that I'm going to die someday, and I wanna do more than simply produce for others. Produce to the family, produce to the institution, produce for profit, produce for care, produce for love. I am out of this freak and competitive game. 

I want to produce something which can change the world. It begins changing myself. Changing my way of thinking and my perception over the nature and the world. Sensitive. 

The one who started writing this text is dead a long time. He had a sick obsession for a woman. He died because he had hope she one day could call him. I will not grief this ancient writer. He deserved everything that happened to him. Even more pain. 

It's easy to keep talking "I love you", when he had the chance he was very violent. He was trying to forget but a woman never forget this kind of violence. Writing is a way to denounce. A way to make things clear. 

One day, this poet fevered in love, push his flower and she almost felt on the ground. That day she tried to break with him, because he deserved go to jail for such action. Yet, it was not enough.

The Shakespeare in love told her one day he was going to put a bullet in her head if she dare to stay with another guy. Very lovable. For an artist everything seems dream. For a woman the situation is serious. There are errors we must not forgive. Errors that exist beyond the lines and the meaning of a text. It doesn't matter how sheep one might appear or look like, it shall not be treated as one of a kind. You know a wolf when it show its claws. They can hurt and they are not poetic. They are not lying cool and smooth beneath the violin caprice.

My error was to love you. I will not forgive myself for that. Consequently, I will never forgive you. You hurt when we were together. I write to forget the pain. I try to make mistakes which cannot cause physical pain. I write to breath under my errors. I look to them as small statues flowing in the sea. A new life is possible. One brick at a time, one word at a time. One mistake can change everything. I am able to recognize error. I was not a perfect woman. But no woman deserves violence and this is not an easy thing to erase. 

It's not a syntax matter. It's not a lion hidden on the lines. 

Clarissa Lake - Situation