Delusional Perspective

A Story by Veziris

A thought.

Staring onto my hand for a longer period of time occasionally evokes the strange feeling of it being no longer a part of me. Seemingly it becomes a self-sufficient lump of flesh. Figure, color and shape changes the longer i ponder upon it. As if it is the first time i notice that the nails serve as small shields on the fingertips. And the delightful shadows within the valleys of my fingerprints, knowing only that I have this particular pattern. Not to mention all the joints designed in a clever fashion.

Why would i ever think that it would hurt if i moved them about?

We all have these strange feelings of alienating the familiar, be it only for a brief moment... I get stuck in those moments, the moments when you question the moment itself. Where I let the mind travel without a map, only to discover the places it started from. And once you are out of that moment, you can’t for the love of all that is holy trace back the thought process. That is why it is so hard to explain these phenomena.

In contrary, if the mind is constantly bombarded with the daily issues. It then leaves no room for the sailor to sail freely in the ocean of knowledge you have attained. The waves become grim of news, commercials, duty, traffic, meetings, trends, work, time, time, and time again. You forget you had a sailor altogether, the boat gets caught between the clash of two waves, and the sailor is no more. The beloved bills arrive. The numbers and letters are orientated in an elegant way. You recognize your master, and obey. Fearing and loving the numbers on papers.

Such a pity. Such delusional perspective.