10/5/10

 

 

I have always felt seperate, in a way that I can't really define...from people, from the world? I'm not sure, its just the way that I feel. Sometimes it seems that others might view me in this way as well, maybe they aren't even concious of it, the way that I am. Maybe it is just another phase that I'm going through, we all go through phases, from time to time, metamorphising slightly, building new charcteristics. Our childhood is a building block for who we will become and I am certainly beginning to realize this, more and more, as time passes. There is a viscious cycle, I call it sameness. The world changes, but people...we're all the same, deep down. Am I different? its a slight possibility, but then again, everyone seems to feel that way from time to time, individual is just another word for seperate...but sometimes I wonder at the sense of it all, what we are pushing for, forward...what is the meaning of it all. Yes it is a question we must all ponder over, our minds teetering around..yes..no...maybe. Answers only leading to more questions. Who am I?? It will take decades to find out, and then still, some may not ever really know.

There is a feeling that overcomes me, every once in a while. Almost like feeling a ghost pass through your body, spine tingling, pricking the hairs that cover my body. I don't think I'll ever define what it is, or how it is caused. I feel confused by my surroundings, like reality is an illusion and I'm not sure how I even got there. It feels like I want to escape, this body...maybe even this very dimension. Its a fleeting sinking of the stomach, rushing thoughts...and then gone, as quickly as it might overcome me. I think that maybe it is my soul, telling me that something isn't right, here...on this Earth?? I can't be sure, but its a fear that has gripped my senses in dreams.

I always dream that the world is ending, planes fly over my head and then crash to the ground, a melting ball of flaming metal. Tents are pitched on the sides of roads and in back yards, people milling about with confused and terrified looks on their white faces. There are people in black SUV's chasing me, all armed and ready to fire. I die, in these dreams, shot in the face or in the stomach. The bridges, all four of those giant, stone beasts crumbling into those dark, muddy waters that surround the cities. Cars slide off, one by one, screams echoing and fading with the sky. I always hope that these things, horrid and frightening, our what they seem...just blatant, instinctual fears, instead of visions of what is soon to come.

Sometimes I think that maybe I dream of him, Jadon, the one who disappeared in front of my young, innocent eyes. I think I remember these words that he said to me, those ice colored eyes shining with the sunlight. But like that ever fading memory, its lost on me, when I open my eyes.

What is going to happen to me? So many times I have bowed my head and wrapped my arms around my chest, heaving these thoughts out into space. Why? These things I feel...think...see...sometimes I don't even believe myself, but I know if I don't embrace it, I'll never really know what I'm here to do. I believe in destiny, there is something that I came here for, a reason that I chose this life and the lessons that I've had to learn and will have to learn.

It's all becoming clearer, little by little.

Author's Note

Will probably delete. I always hate reading my thoughts and recollections.

Reviews

[Bard Constantine]

I believe I can truly say... you are not alone. The future is a bleak prospect for a large portion of the world; even our entertainment consistently depicts destruction as the only thing to look forward to. We race toward oblivion like kids to the candy store, having the means to save ourselves but not the willpower to do so. The greatest irony of this age of technology is that despite the advances in ways to communicate, people are more alone than ever. Humanity has lost its sense of community; we confess to strangers what we cannot tell those closest to us. There is a loss of self identity: we look at the angry, hateful screaming faces that surround us and wonder how we can relate to the massing sea of people who fight over bread crumbs while the loaf sits rotting on the table. In a way most of us are searching that vast cosmos inside ourselves for answers, for a sense of what our purpose is. That is why we dream, we write, we create... we have a fervent desire to fill that void, that infinitesimal chasm that separates us from where we stand and were we want to be.

Personally, I relate to your feelings almost too well. I keep myself isolated even from those who I should be open to, I chose isolation despite my urge to collaborate. It's a separateness that's hard to define; whether it's because I feel I need to be such, or some fear of exposed emotion that holds me back. I could go on, but I won't. Suffice to say the answers exist. If only we had the questions to unlock them...

[.quan.011.]

You shouldn't delete I like it.

[Robin]

" It's all becoming clearer, little by little. "