I saw it clear as day, as if I had just woken up. There was single spotlight beaming down, illuminating my arms and legs which were attached to wires extending into the infinite above me.
I was hanging in a black void, dangling from thread unable to move. The strings seem to pull, and my body starts to animate. My limbs moved more like clockwork, with an unnatural flow and began reaching into the nothingness in front of me.
Suspended from these strings, I started getting used to my motion and after a time the spotlight dimmed. I found myself in front of the world that was like a small orb that exuded light.
This world that looked and moved very much like our own. All around it were small strings jutting from this blue-green globe. I sat there observing as days and nights seem to pass, and I grew to admire this world. I wanted to reach out and pull strings, to influence the world in front of me. My hands moved as if on their own, reached down and started to pull these strings. Each time is affecting a little bit more of this world in between my hands. With time, I learned what each string did, learned all the ways to use them to make what I wanted to happen. But every time I pulled strings they became more and more entangled in my fingertips.
That’s when the spotlight came back, my fingers all tangled up in string. I was just an actor in a much larger system, I was a just marionette who learned to puppeteer but, truth be told, I never knew who was pulling my strings. I wanted to know why, and for what purpose did I have to learn that no matter what strings I pull that someone was pulling mine.
sleep
My Small Musings
The bright L.E.D. backlight of my laptop has illuminated my face for the evening. My eyes have grown accustomed to the light as the absence of the day left me with a darkened room. The sound of my clicking keyboard is the only thing that sounds even remotely like life. I have sat, at this point, for hours. The various images and clips that I’ve pulled up on my screen have been countless, as my mind races to find some activity stimulating enough to catch my attention for more than a couple moments. I resort to what usually find myself doing, watching top ten lists of various aspects of movies or tv shows. Inside I know I need to do something, something to feel like the night means something, but it’s already late, and the list of tabs with video grows and keeps me in this space of indecision as my night floats on without me.
I did reach out to see if some of my friends wanted to hang out earlier, but alas no dice. To me, it feels like one of those evenings to talk about sad things, to swap stories about scars, about failures, about lost passions and rejection. To wallow in the center of intense emotion, finding some bonding in the darkness of the heart. A time to listen to heartwrenching songs and watch horribly sorrowful scenes of tv shows or movies. The kind of things that brings tears to the eye but happy in a way that we can be moved so much by them.
Well Alternatively, I could have gone driving around and see the night as I passed by the people out and about. Drove through the bright neons of Hollywood, the incandescent lights of the suburbs, or found some quiet, dark road that makes me feel like the whole universe disappeared. Doesn’t feel like one of those nights, especially with no one to share the moment.
I could start my next book, a book about the psychology of persuasion. I’m still not over the last one, processing all the messages I got from it. Trying to institute some sort of change in accordance to its recommendations given to the main character. I know I will get to it later this week so there is no rush.
Inside I know I have to write, I have regularly been writing to make a habit of it. Trying to make it an addiction, an obsession. Something to keep me up at night, something I have to do or else I feel off. It’s the romantic in me that has always wanted one of these kinds of obsessions. So I sit here, illuminated by the L.E.D. of my laptop with the clicking of the keyboard being the only thing that sounding remotely like life as I spend time thinking about the world and writing.
Too Human 