a memory.
In all those stories it's stereotypical of the main character to when close to dying have those flashbacks of such vivid memories of their life. Why not think deeply of the most simple or most complex memories - like pictures to a movie reel where you just know what is happening, or you are willing to interpret it for the goodness in it because you want to forget or indulge yourself in what's happened. Or its bad but all you can do is watch.
random quote of the day; "If you want to know what is dear in someone's life, watch what they photograph." Along those lines..
Aim; to make it seem otherworldly - detach my experience to make it seem like it happened to someone else. This is fiction lol.
It is a chaotic blurry in their head as their eyelids flitter back and forth, as if it was the only parts of them they could move without the recognition of pain or pleasure. It is just the sight of dabbled colours and random shapes as no clearness is needed when the memories pass with enough clarity already. Perhaps it is a masterpiece of the mind's art, but all is seen simply in feeling and recollection; brief thoughts as if someone truly had to signify this onto paper, to decode it, the result would be a flourish of ache; the ache of missing, but then it hurts too much from the times one dies of laughter, when etched in what seems like a frozen grin, cries them to sleep. The brightness of smells and flavour in comfort, the thrill of excitement as they lay their eyes on the one that brings them those butterflies, their hands in fold with the paper plane as they run and pant in exhaustion - exhausted in tiredness, in sleep, of anger and sadness, adrenaline as their day never ended. Maybe they never wanted it to end in the warmth of their shelter and arms, but ever craving the coldness of the fresh morning rise. But where was that collision of softness to anger, from stress to relief, as an achievement recognised from struggle led to bitterness as it is struggled to decide "to do better" or "that was your best". What inspiration ended up in weights as it is the mind, just the mind that can choose whether to shut down or stand up. Lastly, the countless people, countless faces met that never expected to be involved in this kindness, or is it regret of a dream, or a nightmare?
What is that line between personal and general?
YOU ARE READING
Raw and no edits
De Todo~ will change later writing regularly to practice writing my thoughts out, for no self judging and improvement. Of course a prompt driven. Hope you like it ! p.s, if anyone was wondering, that is definitely a pathetically drawn astronaut on the cov...
