a pronoun?
A beautiful pronoun! I love it when you share
with us. You are magnificent.
At 02:27 AM 2/28/2009, you wrote:
Hello everyone
I don't know who I am. You'd think after all
this time thinking about it and ruminating over
it that I'd know but I don't. There are times
where I've caught a glimmer but as soon as I try
and grasp the clue, poof, it's gone like a puff
of smoke, wafting through my clenched fingers and beyond my dreams.
"It's like a hall of mirrors at a carnival where
some mirrors distort you one way and some
distort you another...Each person you come to is
a different mirror. And since you're just
another person like them maybe you're just
another mirror too, and there's no way of ever
knowing whether your own view of yourself is
just another distortion. Maybe all you ever see
is reflections. Maybe mirrors are all you ever get..." [LILA]
I like taking pictures of myself in front of
mirrors. I'll arrange one close by another and
try to catch a glimpse of infinity but no matter
how I twist and turn it is always just there,
outside my view. My cats come and watch the
play. They're as mystified by it all as I am but
they seem to get over it more quickly.
"But what controls all these mirrors is the
culture: The Giant, the gods; and if you run
afoul of the culture it will start throwing up
reflections that try and destroy you, or it will
withdraw the mirrors and try and destroy you
that way... The mirrors take over your life and
soon you don't know who you are..." [LILA]
I fall into silence for hours, then days, and
then weeks to months at a time. I speak when
spoken to, you know, to maintain appearances, to
make a semblance of a living, but otherwise
there are no words to be found breaking the
silence. I live alone. I prefer it that way
though at times the loneliness tends to press on me more than at other times.
I speak through my writing though that too seems
to dry up occasionally. The words are there but
the meaning isn't. No matter how I struggle
against it, the silence has me in its infernal
grip and refuses my freedom lest I embrace it
fully. Someone knocks at the door; I don't answer. The phone rings; I let it.
"Sometimes you could see little fragments of
reflections of what was wrong but they were just
fragments and you couldn't put them together...
Everyone seemed to be guided by an 'objective,'
'scientific' view of life that told each person
that his essential self is his evolved material
body... Each individual in his cell of isolation
was told no matter how hard he tried, no matter
how hard he worked, his whole life is that of an
animal that lives and dies like any other
animal... Scientifically speaking he has no goals." [LILA]
I see others scurrying here and there, going
about their lives as if they have goals... and I
am envious. I want to be going somewhere, as if
I too were doing something important. But I am
what I am. I go for long lazy walks during the
day when others are working at their jobs. I see
them drive past me on the road in their dump
trucks and telephone vans. Sometimes they wave and sometimes I wave back.
I like the sunshine more than clouds but I like
my freedom best of all. Four walls close me in
even if they have windows to look out. When I
was young I had a job working in an old building
all day long. When I could I would sneak off and
peer out the dirty windows at the brightly
optimistic day and it would take all my
willpower not to quit at that very instant and
make my escape... When I grew older, I finally did.
"They just hate it when people make love. And
then they'll go to a fist fight where someone's
really hurt and all covered with blood and
they'll just love it. Or a war and stuff like
that. They're all mixed up and they're trying to
take it out on you so you'll get mixed up too.
They want to mix you up just like they are and
then you'll be all mixed up too and then they'll like you..." [LILA]
I remember when I had a real job that I felt
like I was part of something. There was a
camaraderie between me and my fellow workers
born of having gone through trials and
tribulations together. Sometimes I miss that,
the feeling of being part of something bigger
than I am. But then I realize it was all
predicated on a lie, and they lied despite
themselves. I can't hate them for lying to themselves, can I?
"...What did he remember? It all seemed so long
ago. Aunt Ellen. When he was seven. There was a
noise in the downstairs in the dark. His parents
thought it was a burglar, but it was Ellen. Her
eyes were wide. Some man was chasing her, she
said. He was trying to hypnotize her and do
things to her. Later, at the asylum, Phaedrus
remembered her pleading, 'I'm all right! They're
just keeping me here when I know I'm all right.'
Afterward, his mother and sisters had cried as
they left. But they didn't see what he saw. He
never forgot what he saw, that Ellen wasn't
frightened of the insanity. She was frightened of them." [LILA]
I find myself apart from the world though I
desire more than anything to belong. I am human,
I howl at the rising of the moon. I see the
neighbor's window shades flutter at the noise
though they never speak it aloud. They no doubt
know it's only their neighbor, drunk again on
loneliness and despair, bleating out his heart
to an uncaring goddess hovering high and ghostly white overhead.
"Maybe if, during the show, the whole theater
collapsed and the audience found themselves
among the stars with just space all around and
no support, wondering what a stupid thing this
is, sitting here among the stars watching this
film that has nothing to do with them and then
suddenly realizing that this film is the only
reality there is and that they had better get
interested in it because what they see and what
they are is the same thing and once it stops they will stop too..." [LILA]
My eyes grow dim in the fading light of sanity.
I flounder about, flailing at shadows, greedy
for company. I smile hello to everyone I see.
It's too cold and noisy though; I retreat to my
own private paradise. I take care not to look
into the mirror lest I see the true hell of my
own making. So I don't know who I am.
_________________________________________________________________
Its the same Hotmail®. If by same you mean up to 70% faster.
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Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you'll land among the stars.........
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