76. end of the premium satin wax
you know what's funny? you can get away with a lot in life if you just laugh at the right moments and frown at the even righter moments. you might lose yourself, sure. but mark my words, you'll be a diplomat in no time. it's all just shaking hands, saying truce, and putting the banners up on the stage together. is any of it real? well, that certainly is the question. probably less than all of it, that's for sure.
i come from a family where words fly and feelings fly even faster. we're a geological epoch crossing a matter of minutes: volcanos erupting, tectonic plates sliding, waves crashing upon high cliffs and rocks shaped like daggers.
it's only natural that on such a blue wednesday night like tonight, the low and faint hour of 10:29 PM, i want to cut myself open. yes, we are back in this spot of my heart. this afternoon i said i felt green, like the trees. now, i feel blue, like the center of a lake or a treasured piece of dyed wool. blue. how true and deep of a color.
it's upsetting to feel guilt that i'm alive, a blanket over my thighs, draped down to my feet. our little town here could have been swept away, crushed under a gigantic and monstrous tidal wave from the kinks of the rocky planet shifting. could have been destroyed and wiped. and i'd be desperate and helpless, at the very least.
it's disturbing to imagine a life where every waking hour is this reality. and that it's not just some natural disaster. it's senseless murder and destruction and wreckage day after day, not saved by a "what if" make-believe but pillaged and brutalized simply as those words are. i don't even know how words could do reality justice, i'm just... sending imagination bubbles.
the thing is, i don't even want to imagine oppression. i don't. and yet i do. it's only natural. just a peek behind the curtain is more than enough to know that something is terribly wrong with our world. it's not just some natural disaster. disaster.
it's disappointing to learn that dreams aren't laid out on a yellow brick road. nor do they appear overnight or even come true. because that's the thing: dreams are a matter of a state of being. the "dream state." the "waking state." being awake. being asleep. dreaming. waking. living. sleeping.
figure of speech, that's what it really is. "i dream of a world." "i dream of a day." "i dream of the woman." "i dream of the illustrious lifestyle, the wonderful career, the picturesque family." "i dream of an ending so beautiful and peaceful and honorable." how hopeful. we do need hope. if not hope, what else? it's the most powerful and dangerously healthy drug we could feed ourselves, perhaps because it's more based on truth than anything else. deep down, we don't know what anything means. but if only we could light a little flame, flickering the light of hope in our hollow cave, then we'd know a little more.
i say, we need to wake the fuck up. it's the reality check i need. but also, i need to sleep the fuck down, down and deep into a lulling dream. to sink and rest under a blanket.
complicated stuff, tis life. we're just scratching the surface, my friends.