Mind Games

She's losing her mind. Her sanity is faltering. Who is talking? Is it her voice or is it her heart?

“We always have the fear that someone is there, the fear that someone will leave us. We always have the fear we’ll be taken against our will, something will be taken from us, or the fear that we’ll die. There’s always the fear, always the fear. Then there’s another fear, the fear of being lost. Why doesn’t this fear faze us until it has struck us? Why do we fear it once it has become too late to fear? Answer me, child. You can’t, right? No one can. Give me someone who can, who is sure, who knows, and I’ll show you a god.”

 

There is not always fear because we’ll always overcome it, don’t we? No, maybe you’re right, but we can’t be the same like that. Don’t curse the very people you come from. You’re making yourself worse. And you have fear too and you question us. What’s so important about the fear of being lost? Everyone is lost. Haven’t you ever considered…the fear of being found?

 

“I’ve always looked inside myself and I always think about the dreams that I remember. One dream that I remember always shows me in a barren white room, almost barren. In the center of this room, on the floor every time, is a lock in the shape of a dull grey heart. A dull. Grey. Heart! When I look at it, I see a scar on it and I don’t know why. I always try to find out why, but I can’t because I can’t find the key. The secrets are there, I know they’re there. I want to know the meaning of that scar. Why is there a scar on my heart?”

 

You can’t find it because a person never has the key to their own heart. As to why there’s a scar, you will only remember when you are to be tested. That’s how it is. You find someone, you become happy, and then your memories strike you, haunting you and clawing you, trying to break you apart. If you fall apart, there are many reasons, but we’ll know that you had gone alone. It’s only the greatest happiness that can revive the darkness of an unknown scar. The scar is a test, always a test when you can’t remember, so when you find that person who gives you the greatest happiness, be ready. That person holds the key to your heart and whether you are ready or not, their key is going to open you heart. If you really must know, you’ll only take longer.

 

“I am so hypocritical. My mind does not follow my heart. Or is it that my heart does not follow my mind? Maybe that is not it at all. Such trivial things as love and love-making and affection, they do not hold any pleasure for me. How can women find pleasure? It is loathsome to me. All the ways that I should find pleasure, through affection, love, and intimacy, I find hatred and anger. My body will respond, but my heart will seep in black poison and my mind will roar of flames and murder. I want to kill those men and those women. They are vile to me, so wretched a race. How I despise pleasure. How I despise love and affection. How I despise intimacy. God does it infuriate me! What is wrong with me?!”

 

You grew up learning that pleasure is pain and pain is insufferable. You grew up thinking love and affection is ruin and ruin is death. You couldn’t find anything other than those in the world and so you became angry with them, you hated them. What’s wrong with you is your past and you are following perfectly to what nature permits humans. Your mind is in perfect harmony with your heart because that is what has been rooted in from the day you were born, but your body is by instinct and instinct goes back to the dawn of man. You are always true to your emotions and your emotions always decides for you. Your heart is your mind and your mind is your heart. They cannot follow the other or stray. It is your instinct that is killing you, the instinct of man, the instinct to love and be loved.

 

“I-I want to cry…I want to cry and feel compassion. I want to love someone and die. Die of the pain and curse at the world. Be angry for their loss, be angry at myself. I want to cry for someone, cry for what they lost, cry for their death. I want to cry and live and die. I want my heart to break and bleed and mend. I want to be happy and love, be angry and sad, to die and break. Someone give me a heart, rip it, scar it, then mend it and give it a pulse. I want to feel, I want to know. Why did God create me so imperfect, so flawed? Why did God make me so incomplete? Why? Why?! Answer me! I want a heart, d****t, a heart! I want a heart, so I can cry for real, love for real, break for real…smile for real. I want a heart, God. Make me human…please.”

 

 

Now that is impossible…
 

Reviews

[Ruby Moon]

ouch....
i assumed that the person was a human...
but at the end i realise, i dont know what is a human
what makes a human, well...human