I see you pretending not to watch me, and I know that you
are wondering who I am.
I am always scared, in fact, I am terrified. The more I progress and the farther I go, the
sooner everything that I have will come to an end. People believe that friendships and love fill feelings of loneliness, but the truth is that, fear is the only cause to it. Your existence is so far beyond their grasp,
that they will never care to know you; you must learn to survive on your own.
Fear will begin to
consume you during your wakeful dreaming slumber, until it grasps you in your sleep, reminding you of the frivolous glowing place.
Some nights I know
that you cry violently, while other nights you lie in your bed trying to force
thoughts tirelessly out of your mind; the present is far more painful than the
past. Against all odds though, you have made
it and survived.
I don’t like
women. I am a fearsome man with the
intellect, power, and motivation to devour anything in my path. Women never seem to possess this type of
strength because they are unable to celebrate victoriously except in dainty
passiveness. How many more heroes would there
be if women were allowed to tell their stories with pride. Men and women both know that we are
responsible for shackling ourselves to the past because today we are all
free. But, I don’t like men either.
As I grasp the red
cotton that is the protective layer between me and all that consumes me, I
realize that the blanket isn’t an all-consuming mass who absorbs and reflects
my imperfect radiation, spinning it back into the universe like a shield. Suddenly I feel that I am a real human, and I
rip the blanket from my body and lie in silence, waiting for the realization to
pass and oblivion to set in; the world is all consuming, and the world is
consumed by it all.
But as I lie in the
darkness, all that haunts me is illuminated by shadows and lost dreams of
love. Not the kind you find buried in a
cedar chest, with crystal vases and dried petals carefully arranged as if to
encapsulate time and space itself, but just a dream; a unique and justifiable
dream. As if on cue, you stop me to ask
why I must demand so much.
“Daydreaming is wasteful! If you want to be respected, then you must
find the resources to change yourself when you have nothing, and enjoy the
destructive long journey, while searching for beauty. As I look at you by the way, I am painfully
reminded of myself; but, it is you who are crazy, and not I.”
Love: one syllable
and so shallow a word beyond the comprehension of too many people that is passed
back and forth like a tarnished penny, one person gives to another, and then
disposed of without a thought. Everyone
wants love, but only certain types of love that always come with a price tag or
time limit. I would personally rather
have a quarter, but some pennies hold value too.
But as I stare at my
own reflection, I see a woman ten years older than I, and she is staring back
at me shaking her head and consulting the time.
It seems that there is a ray traveling between us, strong and unwavering
in my eyes and consistent in yours. How
do you not stare into complete darkness when you realize that I am the moth
when you are the all-consuming flame?
I sat last week when
I was distraught in my bed and I realized (again) that God must be real. The golden pine cone continued to float freely
in front of me, but fearing for my own sanity, I didn’t dare reach out to it; I
still don’t, and I decided (again) that God must not be real. Of course I would be a fool if I didn’t
believe He was real (so then maybe He is).
That doesn’t mean
however that I will be fairer to you in passing, or care about you any less if
it’s worthwhile. These things are
crucial aspects of the time we have together.
When I saw you
watching me, I realized that you wondered who I am. None of this answers the
question, but as the hours tick by, I realize that I don’t know how many have
passed.
No comments:
Post a Comment