day 14

I speaks again.

repetition; would very much like to remain where I am; thank you.

welcome the nostalgia of:
when, once we could smile, laugh and jest at the mere thought of us, them, everyone, being themselves, exercising the childishness that we all possess; less-than-pretentious; we are delighted by the thought of ice creams sold outside the school compound, and the brief freedom we had as we walked home. That short distance, a world in front of us - of snails, toads, butterflies, tennis balls and guppies that weren't as free as us. we seemed proud of that. so innocently proud.
thank you, I would really like to repeat myself.
welcome to the reverse, the repressed state of the mind, when youths forget their childhood and look to empty promises of delirium, seduction and the less-than-eventful game of self-gratification. Still eventful. So eventful that nothing happens. nothing. just the seaside and the sun that never rises. I remembered, vaguely, how to be less than myself, and always projecting a future that lasts forever. we cycled through tar and melted sin, and rejoiced in the less; always incomplete self, imagining that we didn't have a future.
thank you, I would like to leap ahead.
welcome to the future, that will never come. I wait, listening for butterflies that would flap so hard that I could actually hear them. A moment in time, that feverish desire long gone, replaced by the concrete delusion and virtual world that dissolves the real and is the real. I am left with everything, too much of everything. Where is the future? Given a spatial reality, I am threading through virtual jungles and leaving places far behind me, I am remembering to forget my past; as if they never happened. At least, that's how I remember. Where am I? Still here, thrown around like a water balloon. I explode. Perhaps. I imagined it. No. I repeat the explosion. Reverse and it feels as if I implode. It is a display of slow motion replay of how water touches water. And I feel assured that gravity will pull me now. Almost instantaneously.
thank you, I hate the effect of the almost.
welcome the future. I would like to remain where I am. Almost ready to be gone. I disappear, only to appear as well. You, you who reads. Please replace me and be 'I'.