How mesmerizing could it be for a normal mind to open a virtual page nobody has an access to (at least for now) and set down every fragment of thought that would wave in with an unanticipated suddenness that would tremble and recede like this inordinately long sentence? Forgetful of if I were questioning and not anticipating an answer. These trails of thoughts have an intimate semblance to the long, unwinding yet fragmented remembrance I am trying to put down in words, if at all.
I have been taking turns with reading, writing, and reflecting. With that I have no perception of the dawn, subtle light of the evening sky, or of the darkness of the night. These perceptions for now have been evolving, ever dissolving into the sublimity of the passing time.
Some days I put on my regular favourite jeans and a t-shirt, put on a full face of makeup except for lipstick, and douse myself in a scent that reminds me of tropical blue oceans as I walk out of the door. Suddenly I am in an alternate reality. I don't recall the details nor what I have been seeking. I am with someone, in a different world. We certainly aren't on same plane of thoughts. Often at times I am physically present in the moment, but I am not entirely in that moment. I am wandering out of the physical reality, out there somewhere, in someone's thoughts or dreams. The probability of a connection between the two of us is distant, like that of two parallel lines that would never intersect. But an underlying process of how I could easily obliterate both the thought and reality at once both soothes my mind and pushes me off the cliff of sanity.
Some days I put on my regular favourite jeans and a t-shirt, put on a full face of makeup except for lipstick, and douse myself in a scent that reminds me of tropical blue oceans as I walk out of the door. Suddenly I am in an alternate reality. I don't recall the details nor what I have been seeking. I am with someone, in a different world. We certainly aren't on same plane of thoughts. Often at times I am physically present in the moment, but I am not entirely in that moment. I am wandering out of the physical reality, out there somewhere, in someone's thoughts or dreams. The probability of a connection between the two of us is distant, like that of two parallel lines that would never intersect. But an underlying process of how I could easily obliterate both the thought and reality at once both soothes my mind and pushes me off the cliff of sanity.
There is a whole new universe inside my mind.
Writing, every thought in its profoundness, helps me if not cures. It maybe the only reason that keeps me sane, or afloat in the material reality.
Writing, every thought in its profoundness, helps me if not cures. It maybe the only reason that keeps me sane, or afloat in the material reality.