Something to Myself (2007)

wrote on: April 14th, 2007

Something to myself.

(Estimated time wrote, middle of seventh grade 2005)

During the change

I sat in my mind, an empty room with no shadows with light all around on a wooden stool, until a sudden moment of darkness pried its way into shutting out what light there was.

To me, I was lost and confused and felt alone in my own trap.

But, there would always be light all around me, even if I couldn’t see it. I felt at peace with a since of tranquility blinding my innocent eyes.

But I’d never forget the darkness I slipped into.

~

(Sat. April, 14, 07)

After the change

And so here I am, back at square, eh, I’d call it two. I’ve been myself, not thinking too much about religion, and not thinking too little, and that can take an effect on anyone.

But I don’t believe I’m slipping into any oblivion or darkness, well, maybe a little, but really, I’m not really bringing that up in my head as “darkness.”

So I know what many are thinking about religion, as going into more of Christianity. I know how your thinking pattern is, what you believe about a certain subject, and how you’re even changing, even if you hadn’t really noticed it yourself.

I know what people are like by just looking at them, and observing their interaction with one another, and even by themselves. I suppose my sense of observation I get from my mother.

But now, I sit in my mind, a room full of a light colored grey, almost too light, sitting on a smooth wooden stool, with a foggy cloud flying and morphing all around me like an angry lightning storm, changing different shades of white, grey, and black.

To me, I feel content, calm, but really, no matter which way you look at it with your eyes, I felt unemotional in my mind. Like I really, don’t care anymore.

I almost forgot how I felt in the room I had a year or two ago, that use to be just, pure white, a sickening white like a hospital for the crazy.

Never will I forget the event, but the emotions one can feel, can be easily forgotten, unless that experience is redone.

I don’t even know if my Stigiophobia is as bad as it was.

That’s the way the human mind works. Whenever something is too unpleasant, too shameful for us to entertain, we reject it. We erase it from our memories. But the imprint is always there. Nothing is really forgotten.