Wednesday, August 31, 2005

I think this is going to be part of a play, or something. I wrote it at camp. What do (hypothetically plural) you think?

"I want to stop seeing this, more and more and more. People who look fine on the outside, but then something slips and you can see everything that’s wrong clearly carved into them. Carved into me, too. I wonder if I always looked as bubbly as they do. A bleeding bubble. Fine now, but with reminders to hide and sleeves to wear just in case what I see is the same as what they see, just in case it somehow is visible to them, even though everybody says it isn’t.
I try not to keep secrets, but as I drink up more and more of what I see around me, the long-sleeved shirts in the closet become less and less a symbol and more and more a reality.
I want to forget that these beings surrounding by skin are people, and that they feel things too. Maybe then I could forget that this is their reality, forget that what I saw when they move is really there, and not something figmented by my own sick imagination. I want to pretend that maybe, just maybe, none of this is true.
I want filtered vision, so I could see what’s there, but not the meaning lurking behind it. I want my ignorance back. I want to numb my “hey, that used to be me” nerve."

Tuesday, August 30, 2005

I don’t remember dreams, only nightmares. I don’t remember the nightmares that are invented by my mind, only the ones that are real.
In the morning, I can talk about my dreams. But then the coffee flushes the night away from my mind, and all I know is that my dream was confusing. A couple of years ago I dreamed that the Pope turned into a teddy bear. I forgot to have coffee that day, and I wrote the dream down.

It’s a shame that my coffee replaces my dreams.

Thursday, August 25, 2005

The Ocean in my Mind

I just got back from camp. I wrote this on August 9th. It's a bit different than everything else on here. But that's good, right? It means I think about other things.

75% of the world is water. 75% of my brain is water. I can therefore safely conclude that the world and my brain are one and the same. My brain has many parts. Some are packed tight with ideas. These ideas come in many colours, shapes, and sizes. The ideas have ideas of their own, and form powerful thoughts when I listen to them. Other parts are oceans. On the surface, they are vast areas of emptiness where I can’t push my thoughts above a crashing wave. But underneath, the holes in my brain are teeming with thoughts, colours, energy, and excitement. Trouble is, these ocean-holes are the best parts of my brain, but my own personal aquatic life needs air to breathe but can’t crawl up on land. All the colour fades away and dies. 75% of the earth and 75% of my brain is essential and beautiful, powerful and large, and never does what it’s supposed to do.