It's not half as cold as they suggested. I felt much colder indoors. I wonder if that was the temperature, or something else that kept filling me with chills. Or maybe I'm too cold to feel the cold, and my senses are deadened. They might have been, for a long time.
I remember from when I was a kid, my mother would yell at me: 'Don't go out in the rain, you'll catch a cold!' and I kept asking why would I catch a cold? At that time, it seemed rational, so I kept away, indoors, with other people. This is how I eventually caught a cold. It's easy, when you're with many others in a closed space. Funny, I still got grounded for not being careful enough. Anyway..
Ah, night, also. Yeah, that's an argued issue alright. 'Don't stay up too long, you have school tomorrow' And so I didn't stay up too long and went to school the next day, for all the good it did me. At that time, however, it seemed rational. So I slept away, indoors, before midnight. I don't do that anymore, I don't have school tomorrow. You could tell me, why are you staying up in night doing this you could very well doing during the day?
I do, however, have an answer for that and I will be very glad to elaborate. During night, I'm alone. No, I'm not one of these solitary people who hate others. Really. During the day, I would talk to other people, socialize, dance and sing with them, and share jokes and jests. During the night, I am alone. Nobody to talk to but myself. Nobody to bother me or occupy me with jokes or dances or songs. Only the speakers. I will read a book, or write a shitty entry at a blog, or dance with my shadow. I feel like I'm improving myself, this is what I think. And so I do it. Anyway..
I was sitting alone, in the night, and it was raining. Quite out of the blue, I decided to combine my two old sins and see if I die, or worse. A rash thing to do. Why leave my comfy robe and chair to go outside like a lunatic, and more so during a rainy winter night? I took a look in the mirror, saw my face, and I knew that I had to. I tried not to think about it too much, nothing too grand to bother. Still went.
***
Stumbling through the twisted, dark corridors, the blind man sniffs. That familiar smell he remembers encountering so many times, but he never could get close enough. But now, his guardians are sleeping, so he sneaks out from his prison, and walks towards the source of that peculiar smell. He does not know what it is, but he does not know fear either. He has abandoned the logic that comes with fear, he has no bounds to hold him.
The door. He remembers the dog that's guarding it, but it isn't barking or snarling or snapping. The dog stands still, its head facing the exterior. So the blind man passes by the canine guardian and outside. The storm is vicious. They had told him of it. Told him of how it rips your flesh to shreds, drives you insane, causes you the deepest pain before it finishes you off. But the blind man is ready to face worse.
***
I am the new famous traveler in hell, but few realize this hell is on earth and fewer realize I am even here, although my Virgil is with me still. Perhaps more than I know, and if all or even anything goes according to my plans, to my hopes, to my dream, I might have the knowledge to warn others. Or beyond my sincerest, least-clouded, most mortal thought, I might avert a disaster. My disaster.
I stride across a ruined landscape. I see the hands of all those prominent in my dreams. What remains shall I leave here? Or will I leave anything at all?
Perhaps just another scar upon the land? A phantom, forever wandering the ravaged landscape and searching for answers without even the means to attain them?
I progress. I am nervous. The sanctuary is near. But perhaps I will pass on forever. Or perhaps I will remain a prisoner to my flesh like some others in this world who yet live. It will take a great deal of time to find my way. A great deal of time.
***
The universe seems to implode. A great blackness which I become aware of only as it begins to move, surges inward. A halo of light surrounding it becomes a circlet, becomes a thick crown, finally becomes a sphere. And I am awake again.
That was my end as an independent entity.
I remember from when I was a kid, my mother would yell at me: 'Don't go out in the rain, you'll catch a cold!' and I kept asking why would I catch a cold? At that time, it seemed rational, so I kept away, indoors, with other people. This is how I eventually caught a cold. It's easy, when you're with many others in a closed space. Funny, I still got grounded for not being careful enough. Anyway..
Ah, night, also. Yeah, that's an argued issue alright. 'Don't stay up too long, you have school tomorrow' And so I didn't stay up too long and went to school the next day, for all the good it did me. At that time, however, it seemed rational. So I slept away, indoors, before midnight. I don't do that anymore, I don't have school tomorrow. You could tell me, why are you staying up in night doing this you could very well doing during the day?
I do, however, have an answer for that and I will be very glad to elaborate. During night, I'm alone. No, I'm not one of these solitary people who hate others. Really. During the day, I would talk to other people, socialize, dance and sing with them, and share jokes and jests. During the night, I am alone. Nobody to talk to but myself. Nobody to bother me or occupy me with jokes or dances or songs. Only the speakers. I will read a book, or write a shitty entry at a blog, or dance with my shadow. I feel like I'm improving myself, this is what I think. And so I do it. Anyway..
I was sitting alone, in the night, and it was raining. Quite out of the blue, I decided to combine my two old sins and see if I die, or worse. A rash thing to do. Why leave my comfy robe and chair to go outside like a lunatic, and more so during a rainy winter night? I took a look in the mirror, saw my face, and I knew that I had to. I tried not to think about it too much, nothing too grand to bother. Still went.
***
Stumbling through the twisted, dark corridors, the blind man sniffs. That familiar smell he remembers encountering so many times, but he never could get close enough. But now, his guardians are sleeping, so he sneaks out from his prison, and walks towards the source of that peculiar smell. He does not know what it is, but he does not know fear either. He has abandoned the logic that comes with fear, he has no bounds to hold him.
The door. He remembers the dog that's guarding it, but it isn't barking or snarling or snapping. The dog stands still, its head facing the exterior. So the blind man passes by the canine guardian and outside. The storm is vicious. They had told him of it. Told him of how it rips your flesh to shreds, drives you insane, causes you the deepest pain before it finishes you off. But the blind man is ready to face worse.
***
I am the new famous traveler in hell, but few realize this hell is on earth and fewer realize I am even here, although my Virgil is with me still. Perhaps more than I know, and if all or even anything goes according to my plans, to my hopes, to my dream, I might have the knowledge to warn others. Or beyond my sincerest, least-clouded, most mortal thought, I might avert a disaster. My disaster.
I stride across a ruined landscape. I see the hands of all those prominent in my dreams. What remains shall I leave here? Or will I leave anything at all?
Perhaps just another scar upon the land? A phantom, forever wandering the ravaged landscape and searching for answers without even the means to attain them?
I progress. I am nervous. The sanctuary is near. But perhaps I will pass on forever. Or perhaps I will remain a prisoner to my flesh like some others in this world who yet live. It will take a great deal of time to find my way. A great deal of time.
***
The universe seems to implode. A great blackness which I become aware of only as it begins to move, surges inward. A halo of light surrounding it becomes a circlet, becomes a thick crown, finally becomes a sphere. And I am awake again.
That was my end as an independent entity.
