I blink slowly, as the screen refreshes itself faster than my eye can see. The
hard drive spins quickly, as my inactivity has become troublesome, as it waits for some sort of action. Still, I almost tremble at the sound, as for almost an hour, silence has encompassed the room.
It's amazing how much
Starcraft can show you things about yourself that you cannot see normally. Like a broken record, I was again on the phone. I listen intently, and speak quietly. I rather not hear my voice but instead I hear someone else's voice which calms my aching mind. I lose track of what I'm doing, almost getting my
Sunken Colonies destroyed by the infernal
Protoss. That is my life, the life of a
drifter. Not a person who can be considered popular, not a ladies man, nor a computer genius, nor an academic scholar. Like my mind, I drift, from crowd to crowd. The unknown face, yet I remember theirs. Its okay. What can I do about it.
After
Starcraft and the phone, I lie down again. I hear the breeze tinkling the wind chime outside my window. I stand up slowly, groggy from the narrow attempt to sleep. I place my right hand on the window. The cold leaves my hand mark on the window, like mist in the darkness. I see the gentle lines of my palm print, and contemplate slowly how that little detail has improved my day. I stumble back to bed, clumsily almost tripping over my air inflated footstool. I lay underneath the sheets. I held it tight, like I did years past when I was a child. I close my eyes, say a silent prayer, and remember the beautiful sight I saw the day before. I breathe slowly, hoping that the lack of air would let me sleep.
The day passes like a mist. I know it was there, but it never had any substance to remember. Work was tiring, yet it seemed like it was nothing while it was happening. Afterwards, the drive home seemed like a blur, like my eyes feel when I'm swimming without my goggles or when I'm walking around without corrective lenses. But I do get home, but not before getting the
Wheel of Time book 9 for
MrFurious's birthday.
I get home, and the family is having a family moment without me. Someone has taken my place. I'm fine with it. Really. Who wouldn't like seeing someone else take your place. She is cuter than me though. Harumph.
The gym was even more of a blur. The pain wasn't real. It never became real. My mind didn't register it until it felt like my body was ripping in half. Thats okay. At least the pain is just in my head. Arcades it is. Flying games and
DDR. Maybe I shouldn't dance right after I eat at
Wendy's anymore. Maybe I just shouldn't eat at
Wendy's anymore.
Home. Home is where the heart is. No welcome home. Just the clicking of
Mahjong tiles. I slowly droop my coat over a dinner stool, and walk into another room. I watch
Howard Stern on tv, then meditate for about an hour or two. Another promising night when I was supposed to play
Starcraft but not tonight I guess. Its too late for that now. Again, I sit here in the dark,
ICQ beeping in the background, I sit here and type. I slowly take my hands off the keys, and take a break.
I sit, crosslegged. I can feel the strain of the muscles during the workout but no stress now. I let my mind loose, and hope that it doesn't pray on some innocent little tidbit somewhere in the astral plane. I feel like I'm flying. I feel free. I don't feel tired. That's the way its supposed to be. But I guess, even daydreamers have to come back to reality sometime.
As I sit here, quietly pondering what might happen next, I hear voices in my head. They are the voices of torment, the voices of happiness and the voices of contentment. None speak louder than the others, yet the voices of torment seem to hit me harder than the others. Maybe I am just listening harder for it. I had dominated my mind for the longest time the past few weeks.
The silence speaks no words, tells no lies. With the wind in my face and my hands clasped in prayer, I open my eyes, and challenge the wind to defeat me. I shiver in the cold, with the howl of the spring breeze nipping at my ear. I look nature in the eye and know that it cannot beat me. I look at life in the eye and know that it cannot be the way it is. Yet I cannot unmask the true nature of life. Maybe I'm not worthy. Maybe I'm not kind. Maybe I'm just too blind to see. Maybe. Maybe I'm afraid to know the truth. I'm afraid that this is all my fault.