I don't know what I created, but I want to create.

God only knows what this is.

Story down here as well
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One day, Mark Lee, a young gentleman from New York in the 1960s came back home from work. With no shortage of fatigued movement he slowly made his way towards his couch. Falling face first into it, he screamed into his cushion.
“Oh when will I be free?” He asked himself in despair. Rolling off the couch onto his dirty tattered floor, he sang in a sweet low voice. “When shall I know true freedom? When I be free from the society that binds meeeeeeee!? When, oh when will I know the love of life is the death of despair!?” Then, sitting up, he reached for a bottle of scotch. As he went to pop the cork, he realized. A deep eternal realization that shook his life forever, something that if the rest of the world could feel it in the depths of their soul, it would free the world!
“I’m not bound here! How could I have not seen it before!? I’m in charge of my life! This stupid world isn’t!” Getting up he threw the bottle of scotch across the room, a bright uncontainable smile filling up his face. “No more sadness, from now on my life is mine, and. no. one. elses!” He burst out into a melody of sounds, complete and utter nonsense. He couldn’t sing, he didn’t care he wanted to sing. With a single motion of his arm, he grabbed his shirt and pants by their edges, and ripped them off! Underneath a sequin leotard, shining in a new and brilliant light, his old rundown apartment gone and vanished. As a chorus of guitar chords sounded around him a ballad announcing his victory to the universe. With fire in his eyes, he strutted down the stairs of his old apartment building. A few individuals completely and utterly startled by the rainbow of a man bounding down the stairs with the guitar chords reflecting off the walls. He paid these men and women no mind as he continued. Reaching the bottom floor the steel door that he had used every day to get into the apartment building burst off its hinges and flew into the alleyway outside. Running onward, he stepped on the brown door as he left his cage. The snowy street welcomed him with all the warmth of dreary and dim day. The intensity of his own joy melting away its indignation. The trees bursting into beautiful colors of purple and orange, and flowers reblooming into colors of steel, a shining and burning light reflecting off of them.”
“That makes no goddamn sense” A gentleman across the street exclaimed, observing this ridiculous spectacle.
“I don’t give a damn sir! This is what my life will be, and I don’t care what you have to say!”
“Where’s the build up! Look at all those sentence fragments! Where’s the outline for what you want to write! How does any of this-“
“No sir, you are right. None of this makes any sense, and if anything, that’s the sense in all of it!” The gentleman curled his lip, and fixing his nice grey hat, and adjusting the lapels of his suit continued on with his day like nothing had really happened.
The man in the sequin leotard nodded, as an acapella of disembodied voices singing in various keys all agreed in unison. “Let the poor guy finally be free!”
“He will be!” The young gentleman exclaimed, and began to run down the street! Tears of joy streaming down his face as he finally began to feel that feeling, that the love of life is the death of despair. He ran so fast in fact, that he outraced the cacophony of music that had been following him since he had begun his journey. He ran far, he ran true, till he found a train, parked in a train yard. Stopping for a moment, he looked around, and seeing one of the trains begin to move, he jumped aboard one of the boxcars. “Who knows where this will take me?” He said quietly, rubbing his throat after yelling and screaming so much, when he heard from several corners of the boxcar.
“Uh hello miss?” “Miss? I see a fine young man!” “Clearly you are mistaken, it’s a woman in my eyes?”
Looking around Mark saw several bums. A tall lanky woman in the right corner, a fat square man in the left, and a short oddly proportioned gentleman behind him. “Who are you guys?” he asked curiously.
“Who the hell are you?” Said the fat man in a jolly tone standing up. Taking off his ripped coat and draping it over the bare shoulders of Mark. Mark sighed a deep sigh of relief, the whole affair earlier tiring him out. “Come sit down and take a load off miss.” Said the fat man, and Mark eagerly sat beside him, while the other two quickly sat by them, the tall geometrical buildings passing off in the distance of the open boxcar. The odd man took out a guitar and began to play it very quietly, as they all sat quietly for a moment.
“Here you go some bread” Said the lanky woman, handing it over to Mark. Who quickly took it and chowed down.
“So who are you?” Asked the Fat Man
“My name is Mark Lee I guess” He said with a smile “Your’s?”
“John Toddle” Said the fat man “Sarah Iggins” Said the lanky woman “Izac Eckle” Said the odd man.
“So tell us, what do we look like to you?” Asked the odd man.
“Well, a man a tall woman and shorter man, why?” The three looked at one another knowingly, and on all three of them smiles broadened.
“Would it interest you to know? That when I see the tall woman, I see an old man.” Said the fat man, to which Mark looked at him surprised. “How is that possible? I see a woman.” Mark asked, quite confused.
“It’s because you are seeing what you want to see” Said the woman “We are awoken, and so are you. “
“Awoken?” He asked quietly munching on his bread “What do you mean?”
“Well” Said the odd man, still idly strumming his guitar. “Earlier today or maybe yesterday, you discovered the meaning of life.” Which he said so plainly and so matter of fact that even mark took it as if it was a common occurrence, not such a hard thing to discover.
“I did?” Mark asked after a brief silence.
Smiling, and strumming his guitar to the mood, he nodded. “Yes you did, doesn’t it seem so little? So easy to comprehend? How is it that so many people yet fail to understand it? Maybe their vision is obfuscated, or perhaps they choose not to understand.” He said quietly playing the guitar.
“Wait, so what was it?” Asked mark, quite confused, still quietly chipping away at his bread.
“That life is yours” Said the odd man “That the purpose of living is to live how you want to live, as best as you can.” The odd man looked up from beneath his black hair, dark eyes glittering with joyful purpose as they stared at Mark.
Mark was silent for a moment, before quietly saying “oh…” He ate his bread quietly as he let this swirl through his mind. The gentle playing the guitar filling the air as the wind coursed through the boxcar. The train hustling now at full speed, trees and vegetation a blur as they passed by. The grey bars that made New York now vanished on the horizon. “So, what does this mean about us seeing one another differently?”
“It means” Said the woman “That we appear differently to everyone, and so do you. We appear to people how they want to see us. Though once they know an image of us, they will only see that image of us. Though really, the only image that matters is the one you perceive of yourself.” She said, taking out her own piece of bread and munching on it.
“My image?” Asked Mark, “Are you saying I can perceive myself differently?”
All three of them nodded “Indeed” Said the fat man. “Just as you see us differently you will see yourself differently, perhaps even your name will be changed, when you’ve decided upon it.”
Mark thought for a moment, seizing his eating of the bread. “How do I make this change?” This question started a stirring between the three. Each stopped what they were doing, and pulled out a fragment of a mirror. Joining them together, they made a single mirror, unbroken. Handing it to Mark upside down, he took it gently.
“You look into the mirror, and you will see what you want to be, the form will be what you desire to see mind you. There is no chance of it being something you wish not to see. This is your true image, and though others will always see you through something else, this is who you are.” All three said this simultaneously.
Mark, excited, quickly turned over the mirror, and before him the new image was not the grizzled man he used to be, but a young woman. She had long dark brunette hair, piercing purple eyes, and soft delicate features, upon the mirror was engraved a new name, Uriana Vestaelia. She saw her eyes light up with joy looking at herself, and her hand covered her mouth. Then the mirror shattered into four pieces, one with her name on it.

End of Chapter one