I feel alone. Played some Minecraft today. It was nice to talk to everyone and build things.
She went silent again
The cacophony ringing still in my ears
That pain a bittersweet reminder
She sits and stares
So I sit beside her
Stare as she does
Breathe as shallow as she does
Unmoving as she is
Unblinking as she is
I try to see as she does
I feel memory at my fingertips
Taste the past upon my tongue
Smell history on the still air
Hear echoes in the silence
See shadows of the past as my vision blurs
And then I blink
And still she doesn't move
If I have nothing else, I have my honesty.
I am tired, and unhappy. I'm going to learn to read faster.
A thin wolf took in its reflection and contemplated its form. It said to itself, "I am emaciated. I barely look a wolf at all. I weigh nothing. I am light and springy. I should wonder if I am not instead thought a crow." And it laughed.
In lunatic fancy, it reared onto its haunches and began flapping its forelegs in jest. Laughing at its own foolishness. A thin cackle to match its thin form. It barely noticed when it began to rise off of the ground, and actually took flight.
Its arms lengthened with the effort, and took the shape of wings, and it forgot it had ever been a wolf at all.
The crow grew heavy over time, and one day took in its countenance. "I am large for a crow, and flight becomes tiring. I feel instead a bear, ready for my long nap." And it chuckled, low and earthy, as it strode into a cave. It yawned wide and sighed. It ruffled its feathers, puffing out, and never noticed as its form never slimmed back down to size. Curling up to sleep and conserve its energy til spring.
It thought as it drifted off into hibernation, "I wonder what I'll become next?"
There was a room in a house that I lived in, and I had a computer and a TV and was watching something while conversing on the computer and trying to pack some things together. My mother wanted to show my sketchbook to someone, and I said that was fine, but I couldn't leave the sketchbook with her because I need it to go with me when I left. I left the room and came back to about 3 individuals sitting on my bed watching my TV. I sat in my computer chair, then stood up and turned on the light to be able to see and continue getting ready to leave.
I dreamt I worked at a retail store, or maybe I was just there, but I saw a shoplifter and attempted to apprehend them. I don't remember if I caught them or they got away. Later I was at the same store and saw a friend who worked there run by. I followed and realized they were chasing a shoplifter. I tried to head him off. Eventually the friend came back and I went after the shoplifter myself. I got to a bookstore-esque section and in my dream I had been there before. I came to a dead end where in my dream I knew there should be some other egress. The store started to close. As I left, I was searching the walls and ceiling visually for a passage. I feel like it was somehow linked to my last dream of a fictional version of the Art Institute. The lighting was changing as I was leaving. It was becoming akin to a nightclub. I saw him or someone else come out of a shelf on the wall at one point. Didn't catch him. Near the last part of the store, there was an area that looked like a salon or sitting room in a club. I don't know if I saw him or just had a hunch, but I went in, and walked to the back part of the room and saw him sitting there smiling. I confronted him and I don't remember the words involved, but he basically said the equivalent of 'You caught me. What are you gonna do, arrest me?' Around that time a large black man showed up, all smug and grinning and basically said the same thing and began to walk me out. The store looked more like a club at this point. He escorted me outside and kept walking with me. We conversed but I don't remember the conversation. He might've become someone else at one point. I remember someone started following us, which concerned both he and I. We started trying to walk in a straight line. Somehow our wrists were connected. The area turned into a sort of waterside city. We were walking on an area that bordered a canal or bay and the water was high, on both sides of the bulkhead. We each had to walk in the water to some extent. We eventually came to an area that reminds me of pictures I've seen of Louisiana or Venice, not because of water, but because of architecture. Around here the figure started drifting behind us more and following less. There was a fair. I went mad and began dancing at one point to some music tha twas playing. I lost the man I had been with around this time and was at one point dancing with a person working at the fair. There was a non-overt Lovecraftian air to it. No specific element, just an underlying feeling.
I feel like I could scream truth until my throat bled and ruptured, and it would still be misinterpreted, unbelieved, or dismissed.
I'm hesitant to post this on Facebook, as it might sound like fishing for compliments. Or some sort of pity party maybe? Listening to a song by Shinedown, called how did you love. One of the concepts of the song seems to be that most of what you leave behind is an impression based upon your interactions without these. I agree with that. So I thought about the fact that somehow over the course of the last 20 plus years I've managed to be memorable to people I've never considered myself having significant interaction with. And from there I looked at the fact that as far as I've ever been concerned, I was inconspicuous and mostly invisible in high school. At least I tried to be. But if I was successful, I should have made less of an impact. I should have more people completely oblivious to the fact that I ever existed. There are mitigating factors, such as the fact that I went to high school around the time of the Columbine shooting, and I did wear a lot of black. Keeping to myself and wearing black during that timeframe is admittedly counterproductive to trying to disappear. But people left me alone and I never questioned it. Aside from that, the people I did try to impress myself upon had some level of profile among our peers. And I did go to prom , and I did dance with a bunch of girls. Most of whom I would have considered out of my league at the time. The point is, a lot of that may have undone some of that work to be invisible. Aside from that, I wonder if it wasn't that I made myself inconspicuous, but that I figured out inadvertently how to become unapproachable. That would explain a lot of my current issues.