Yourself?

I admire those people who have a way with words. They speak little of what actually happens, but by the entire atmosphere of the language, by the choking sense of rhythm, by the choking sense of inevitability, what are but vapours coalesce to form a whole. A crushing anvil of inescapability.

A Little Love Story

Where does a story begin? Does it start when something changes so drastically, like when the sun rises over the horizon each day? Or does it begin more surreptitiously? The silent warmth of the sun shooting through the Earth, warming your limbs before you have even opened your eyes. The sound of traffic starting to build, the cold roads gradually warming up, like the warming up of your arteries as blood flows, and rushes around. And you wake as the sun rises over the horizon. At that exact moment, you open your eyes and see it in it's scarlet glory.

Who woke you up? Who brought you here?

Welcome in. Sit right down. Welcome to my mind. it's hard to find someone so willing to experiment with his own consciousness, but now with your help, this machine, might finally literally put ourselves in another person's shoes. Yes and now there are a few things I'd like you to do. Can you talk?

"I can hear you. This seems strange, like two voices in one head, too little space. Are you hearing me or are you understanding me or are you me? I'm confused at how this all works. Why am I me when I'm in you?"

You are you, and I am I because we both know who we are. The outline of our bodies, the very extent of our poise and our movement differentiates you from me, her from him. There is something I need you to do. Can you move around in my mind? Can you feel or see or experience what I've remembered?

"I see only flashes from the past. Moments of things you first fixed your eyes upon. A young girl. You walking to her, you giving her candy. She smiles. You throw her into your car. Lock the door. Drive off....."

Stop stop stop. That is something I've forgot.

"You pull over at the beach. The sun just set. Darkness and pleasure. Red hot passionate pleasure. For a whole night. For a long long night."

You have no right going into that. That was off limits. I am going to terminate the experiment now.

"Wait, what's the hurry? Let me share something with you."

The darkness. A malodourous scent. A weight suffocating. Restrained. Terror. Panic. Such wild panic. A hand in the wrong place. A sharp pain. A pain that wouldn't go away. A pain no amount of struggling could eliminate. Pain and panic. Pain and panic. Pain and panic... stop! stop! end this nightmare!

"How was that? Did you like that?"

The sun rises over the horizon. The light casts rays into the fogged up mirrors of the car. The car looks familiar. Push the guy off. Run away... Wait. That's me!

"That's right."

No don't. He gasps as the whole memory was given to him. He gasps as they share that one intimate moment. That small little love story. How does one live on when one has been violated? How does one live on when the culprit was himself?

posted by Downhere. @ 8:19 am