what in the hell is wrong with me? i'm not even in my right mind anymore. i'm so scared. there's nothing bad happening. i shouldn't be upset. or maybe i should. because something is happening. and i forget it ever so often because every time i think, i lose my mind. the cement of the sidewalks is most pleasing to the eyes, and i can just as easily lose myself in the monotony of each block. there lies every secret i've ever held in, and every experience i've ever had, and every feeling i've had that's completely incapacitated me.
so tell me, when you look back, what do you feel? happiness? naivete? nostalgia? do you smile, do you frown, do you giggle and laugh? are you proud of yourself? do you like who you were and who you are now? because i don't. maybe not as much liking who i am now, but there is no happiness when i look back. i can't even remember the happy memories. everything is so dead and cold and there's this ache every time i think about it. anything can bring it back, anything can make me feel just as helpless and hurt me just as much. i don't have anything to look back and smile at.
but, i can remember, still. i remember the soft golden glow of the lamp in the living room. the smell of fresh laundry, cigarettes, and beer. how cold the rooms of the clinic were. how hard she cried. the cut on my toe. the sting of chlorine. his hat. the taste of orange juice and decorations strewn on the floor. tan and muscular and a bluff. her screams. the bedsheets. the nearly silent mew of a cat. scratch. scratch. scratch.
but did it happen? did i imagine it all? how much of what i remember is real? illusion has more power than reality. lose yourself in your dreams, my mind manipulates. it's easier to accept a dream than the truth.
it's also more effective to forget. lock it away, says the mind. silence yourself. forget humanity. leave it all behind. do not speak. silence is key.
and look where it got me.
i can still hear the breathing outside my window. the streets are alive. and in them, holds my secrets, the truth, the lies, the distortions, who i truly am.
maybe it all really was just a dream.