As usual, my extracts are brief but the words I speak of are on a level that everyone can relate to due to that simple fact that we are all human, regardless of your status, and all that other bullshit we all think the same, feel the same and respond the same. If your too afraid to speak of what is in your mind then just read, because I speak.
I spent a day without a voice, and only when that has been taken away from you can one really comprehend what it means to be trapped with only memories for company. They are simply a torture to sift through them and choose one to relive. They accentuate past experiences with such a vivid conjuring that it aches to understand the reality that it is in the past. A word we use to describe something that we can never go back to. The mind is so powerful that it illustrates with the accuracy of a surgeon more than a thousand variations of a single memory, thus dissecting it till it’s just amplified with a meaning that was never truly there to begin with.
A common saying “You never truly miss something until its lost”, well I suppose we never truly believe that we were going to loose it. And yea I’ve lost it, again and again, these moments come with a rapid spur of lust and excitement and vanish with only the remnants of a cold hard memory etched firmly in the cages of our mind. By now its obvious this piece is about Her all over again. That one girl I want nothing more than to relive that memory with and do it again with all those thousands of variations. I wonder how many souls have thought what I speak of and how many will truly speak of it. How many still live in the light of their minds instead of the dark of reality? And we don’t move on because we are afraid, that’s just a meaningless lie, a misuse of fear. Fear should be kept for those getting beaten in the street, not for those unwilling to move on. That unwillingness is simply because we are lulled into the past by the false sense of security that it once offered, that which I speak is more dangerous than an uncertain future. Our memory is a disease of the psyche fueled by experience.
Forgive me if you do not agree with me for all I’m doing is trying to make sense of this phenomenon and to find the answer to the greater question that sits like a parasite in my brain: Can I ever be free from my caged mind?
