As night subtley passes into morning, one day becomes another. Yet, time blurs... there is this inbetween space, where it is neither last night nor the next morning. It is that hangtime in the air while in mid-swing. The wood between the worlds.
[That was something that always stood out to me when my Dad read to me from The Chronicles of Narnia books. How in The Magicians Nephew, there was the inbetween-place, the wood between the worlds. There was no time, no...anything. Just endless woods and clear pools of water leading off into different worlds - different times and spaces. It was the gateway to so many things that you could hardly imagine. However, you had to make sure not to get distracted, or fall asleep there, otherwise you ran the risk of falling asleep and never getting up again. The stillness of the woods was overwhelming.]
In a way, that's how the night time feels, to me. You can get lost in it, and never realise until the crack of dawn peeks hesitantly over the horizon.
Stuck in that time [or lack thereof] and that silence, I begin to think. About what? I don't know, and I won't remember later. My thoughts become too jumbled and incoherant to type out. Sometimes, I question my own sanity. Most of the time, actually.
--Fragmented pictures fade together. Smoke drifts, obscuring the images that exist only in your mind. A muffled buzzing fills your ears, but when you turn to look, there's nothing there.
Your mind is a maze; A labrynth with endless wall and corridors of your own making.
Somewhere within lies the key to this insanity, but my nature it is unfindable. The only way to reach it is to stumble around aimlessly, no destination in mind, through the thick mist and ever changing pathways.--
Nothing makes sense to me anymore. Not even I make sense to me anymore. Isn't that alarming? You'd think that one would make sense to themself, at the very least. When you live inside your own head, you begin to see aspects of yourself that you never wanted to see, that you never thought possible. So you would think that you would know yourself well enough to not be confused or alarmed by anything you'd see there. Or, perhaps, that is WHY it is so backwards. When you live with someone on a day-to-day basis, you being to lose sight of the big picture, and the details that could really matter. Perhaps this also holds for residing within your own mind.
--I am trapped in a glass prison of my own design, with only my insanity for company. Time passes so quickly, yet so slowly, not a second seeming to change. Time is meaningless. There is no future, no present. Outside there be monsters, jagged teeth gleaming. They begin to tear apart my beloved glass prison, irisless eyes shining in the absence of light. I must keep this barrier up, les they break in and eat me alive. Slowly, I take apart another piece of my already broken mind and use my blood to glue it to the wall of the shattered, splintered glass, fixing the hole, safe for another day. This cage is my prison and my safehouse, my pain and my protection. Scattered on the floor all around me lie the bloody, sharp-edged pieces of my mind. --
It is nights like this, that I long for the innocence that I lost, somewhere along the way. Somewhere between then and now and there and here, it was lost. Dropped along the roadside like an abandoned penny. Perhaps it was picked up by another, to be stuffed into a container, saved somewhere for a rainy day. Or perhaps it was pulled down water-filled crevices by the rain, and swept down into a drain, never again to see the light of day.
--We were so young, back then. We ran like the wind, closed our eyes, and flew. We crashed into the dirt, laughed, cried, and got up to try again. We thought that things would never change, that everything would stay the same forever. We thought life was made up of swings and slides, of bicycles on sunny days, of fruit stolen from the neighbor's garden. We were so naive back then, so innocent. We thought life was a picture, but we were so wrong. It's not a moment that's frozen in time.
Eventually, we went our seperate ways. Our hands were pried apart by the realities of the world. Slowly we parted, like drifwood on the ocean tide. Sometimes I wonder who you'd be today. What would have happened, had things been different. Why did you pick the road you did? Perhaps you just grew up too fast. Hell, maybe I did too.
We thought those days would last forever. That we'd always be together. I thought that you would never leave. We were so innocent, back then. Sometimes, I wish even a trace of that innocence had remained. However, some things, once lost, are never returned. Some things, you never get back. Do you have regrets? Do you wish you had chosen differently? Do you ever long for the things you sacrificed?
We thought those days would last forever. But unfortunatly, things do change, don't they? I suppose you learned that the hard way.
I'll be seeing you.--
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