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Apparitions
Written on: Wednesday, August 19, 2009
First I'd like you to know that Samantha started out with $30, and Sabrina, $50. I hope I'm right heh.Time: 12:51 AM You remember the quiet time, don't you? It is the time when the fountain of thought spouts questions and observations, wetting the pavement around thus inviting a growing crowd to watch the spectacle. The show of a mind on the verge of erupting forth with wonders unheard of, as hinted by the promising stutters. They've come to watch a parade, for they are in on it to. We are one body and we contribute to its growth. This is what happens during that period of floatation. My most recent log, I will share: Why does the boy squat by the sidewalk while talking on his phone, gesturing wildly? It is probably nothing, but like all man, there is an innate desire to be part of something serious, to draw attention towards oneself. Subconsciously then, our mind carelessly dances to the tune of the waiting ovation, and we get carried away. Why does the girl sit in such an uncomfortable position? Because she just wants to sit with her friends? Cannot afford to look uncool? What are the construction workers eating. What are they talking about. When was the last time I looked up at the moon. The sky is clear, I can't smell now. I hear the soft thud each step makes, picture the soles of my shoes slowly wearing off at the heels. My pants flutter with each stride, and I almost wish they were tapered. I'm too tired to observe anymore. Did you catch the progression? A rapid-fire of questions, falling around me like a torrential storm, but quickly easing into a light drizzle that feels good on the face. You don't usually walk out in it on purpose, but you don't mind it there. You taste it a bit then move on, and before you know it there is no rain. Is the sky bright and clear? Maybe. But the passing of the storm hints to a more substantial state, that of accepting what is and leaving the questions for when it is truly their time. I toyed with this next confession while walking out of school, and it was a really unpleasant experience. But I figured enough people know of it or suspect something, negating any reason I may have for holding back. Might as well hear it from me right? Don't listen to what others have to say, I'm yelling it in your face now. You might take it as a warning, though I'm clearly stepping hard on my feet by issuing that statement. Oh well I'm a blatantly honest pacifist, and sometimes foolishly do what I think is 'right', when it goes against some other person's better judgement (funny, I can distinguish myself from the common man, yet I'm not so inclined to say I'm different). I am a liar, a compulsive, in-your-face, honest eyes steady voice, disgusting, dirty liar. It pains me to admit that I lie a lot, so much that I need to constantly mentally slap myself. These lies aren't to harm people. Rather, to prove a point, sway an argument in my favour, prevent me from looking stupid, or worse still, they just come out... AND! I have the cheek to act like nothing happened. I wish you could hear my deep sigh and feel my anguish. Alas there is only so much words can do. These words that could well have easily tainted my reputation, are now struggling to explain my actions and and and whatever. Why did I even have to admit it, now I can't even go back to delete the paragraph. So please, the next time I abruptly tell you something was not true, just accept it and move on. You are all an important part of my recovery. Hahahah how did that sound I wonder. And one more thing, please don't ever mistake my mannerisms as weak attempts at humour or such. Though my natural actions may sometimes be funny, I don't always deliberately try and make people laugh. So the next time I do something you think was supposed to be funny, don't force yourself to laugh just to make me feel good. It does the exact opposite, for I always expect people to act like nothing happened. I guess its just me, the weird antics, accents, sounds, talking to myself and whatyouhave. If you no longer squeal in joy everytime you have an ice cream, I don't see why you have to keep laughing at- or with- me. Whatever it is. Whatever. So I looked at the clouds just now, and for more than a fleeting moment saw something I wished I hadn't seen but saw coming all along, so I looked back to the ground. Many people reading my mind I suppose? Enough to will a change in the, what, stratosphere? That what you call it? Then I asked myself what I was doing out so late, tried to answer, then asked the figment of a You what it was doing, why I was asking it and why I was looking out. It kept quiet but my thoughts kept probing, until with a tired hiss I gave up all attempts and asked the biggest question of all: Who are You?! Why do I think I know this You so well when I don't? Is it the sum of all the voices in me, all my personas and thoughts combined. Or mainly the cumulative being of my fantasies long held back in storage. Or what. What? So what, what is this young man doing up so late, why is he tapping away on his keyboard at this hour. He has things to do. He will do them. Hello, Please tell me I'm a good boy |
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