Two days ago from now i did a thing, and it was a normal thing. A thing that if anyone were to ask would know that it happened but if not then wouldn’t. It was one of those things that cross your mind for a second and then fades through the day until it’s brought up again. Which it hardly is. Things like that are left unsaid. Those things are sacred. A little secret between yourself and maybe one other person depending on the type of day. This thing was hard of course. I felt like I would burst into a million pieces as if my skin would burn off. This thing was intense. This thing made me wonder briefly why I did anything but cemented my role just the same. This thing brings me curiosity. So much curiosity that I pick it apart day by day until I’m left feeling alone. This thing is monstrous. This things pick me up by the hair and swings me around until I’m too dizzy to get back up again. This thing is so neutral that I couldn’t even blame it for the faults that it causes because those faults are only faults in certain lighting. Then again everything seems better in the dark. This thing seems to strive there. I And I don’t mean the darkness in you’re mind. No, this thing isn’t that deep. But it could be if applied right. Then again I don’t think I ever apply this thing correctly. This thing is a mystery. A mystery only solved by time and space and people. Words exchanging. Exchanging this thing with the person to animal to alien to anything that’s willing to exist in its presence. It’s a troubled thing. It finds what it needs most no means of its own but then again I don’t know. I can never tell what the purpose of this thing is but I believe that it isn’t trying to cause harm. It doesn’t want to end things it just wants to go and move through life like water to a stream. It wants to be free to do what it chooses. Then it chooses to live in a cage. This thing contradicts. This thing holds out secrets like gold and then it’s picked clean. This things wonders why people would do such a thing. But it knows why. It knows what it also doesn’t. that thing is best left unsaid, because i don’t think i could give it a name. Or at least not yet.
And now I feel the need to poke and prod until I have the answer, or at least some notion as to what it is.
This is so ominous and beautiful. I have no idea what you’re trying to describe, but so many different good and bad and weird things came to mind while I was reading. I loved it.
Timera, troubled things are the best things. Your writing feels weightless, I love it. Write more of this please.