For whatever reason, right now, I feel shockingly in tune with my room and the world. Let the following words try and reflect that feeling, because in the morning I'll undoubtedly be in a much different mood.
"What troubled sleep have you known, to speak of my dreams? No matter how sweet, a dream left unrealized must fade into day."
I think my brain has been totally election'd out so it's started to turn itself to more fruitful enterprises, fixating on all sorts of smaller things I don't typically notice. For one, I've suddenly become much more concerned with the amount of money I spend around on a day-to-day sort of basis. Not that I just spend money wildly, but I think it's just a small reflection of some greater type of emotional hypochondria. Lots of things on the mind of everyone, people just yelling and screaming and falling in love. Can't sleep now, haven't slept lately, not-sleep begetting irritability begetting all sorts of not-hope. I might be turning to the Dark Side without even knowing it. Maybe in a few weeks I can force lightning my Bio IA folder. More as this develops.
So, there's that, amongst other things. Someone died lately, not someone I knew personally, but a relative to a friend in Maine. Got me thinking all kinds of death, between all the phone calls and CNN.com and the Day of the Dead. Death exists, not as the opposite but as a part of life. Translated into words it's certainly a cliche, but now I feel it as not-words but some knot of air in my chest. Death exists-- in bricks and sycamores-- and we go on living and breathing it into our lungs like fine dust.
I don't know where to go from here, haha. I'm trying to put into words some feelings I've been having lately (there have been a few), but it's difficult. We're all these placid surfaces; I want to be anesthetized so someone can cut me back and see all the little buggers crawling around under the surface. I think if people could do that type of operation, a real "self-revelation," we'd see all sorts of deaths. Can you imagine looking at yourself, your essence, your aura, all naked and exposed? Someone ripping it out and plopping it down on some desk, the thing squirming around on the table like some giant eel-fish. I know I wouldn't be able to handle it. I'd die from shock right there staring at my writing eel-fish asphyxiate in all the oxygen.
I think sometimes we all get so close to getting a peek we just collapse inward. That's necessarily a bad thing though, if you think about it. Growth isn't always such a good thing-- sometimes you just need to move.