i should be more lost, she said.
instead, ive laid here, in this bed, that for this moment is my own, and ive dreamt a novel in my head. i dreamt of a dream that will only ever be a dream, if never i allow these images to become my reality. so i keep my eyes open and i write. emotion by the lines on their faces, passions so deep i get a tingle down my spine. i am becoming this novel i write. i am becoming her. i want to drag mud across my cheeks and take off all my clothes. return to a jungle that has always remained more like home. i do not know, cant you see? if you hope then it must remain hope, it cannot become the reality and remain unchanged. i breathe, gently. my own foot steps make sounds i do not know. the beauty is here and the beauty is just the way we’ve always left it, from generation to generation we must find life on our own. you cannot be taught to live. you can be mislead and you can realize for yourself what eyes can see, and what eyes can never see.
i fell, so far id not fallen, but floated, as my reality went past me, and i did not know anything but what my eyes could see, and in this moment i realized what my senses were really explaining to my mind. that my soul is not comprehended in a way my finger tips can explain. that my soul is infinite to my own perception, and that as i lie awake, i stand dieing, the way this is meant to taste. sweet, like honey. breathless, like escape.
im walking a tight rope, strung between my past and my future. and there is nothing below my feet but faith, that when i fall, anything is possible still, or nothing at all. and to walk this rope i must keep my chin level, and not look down too long, not lose sight. for one day i will fall, and that is when our time comes to look down, down upon us, if ever we were anything more than the memories we leave in the minds that survive in the times we do not see. and when i fall, i want to dive, with an open heart and a youthful wise mind, dive into an unknown that i will reach out to grasp in humble palms. i accept my limits with the strength to push against them while in life. and i shed in my path these clothes ive worn, these stories ive been told, these worries ive housed. i give it all in a humble step as my toes curl against a rope and dream of my arms becoming wings. anything is possible because we cannot know what is or is not. humanity is young, we are a glimmer in the eye of a crocodile, whose memory may hold more of this earth than ours in a life time. we do not know, do we? i accept my youth, and i dream awake in this bed, writing a novel and making another reality. why not, its only time well spent if that is how your senses read the book.
goodnight, she said.
