Into Sandy's City, Random Thoughts

I wake up in the morning, and my skull in pounding my brain into oblivion. Sweet. Another day in this paradise of an over-indulgent mind.

And so as the fog clears my mind, and the water I drink convinces my skull not to pound so hard, I stand and stare out the window. But what do I see? Trees, rocks, other dorms, a road? Anything that is really there? Probably not, because there is rarely a point in my day where I'm not off somewhere else, thinking about something apparently so much more meaningful than the beautiful natural world in front of me.

I know the world is beautiful, I feel a deep connection to it. I see the meaning of it and my life in the clouds spanning the sky, red-hewn by a sun setting from another day of sorrowful loneliness. For the sun knows no companions, and spins endlessly on unto its oblivion of a fiery explosion, destined to take the world with it. And so it stretches its beautiful colors across the sky day after day, streaking sadness without solace over the entire world. And we thought the rays of the sun were warming.

People come into and fade from my life. They always fade back into that from which they came; they never change form and die on me. I would say I am very lucky in that regard; no close death haunts my heart, but in its stead there is a loneliness, and a hole of negative potential. Death is mostly involuntary and final, but disappearances are voluntary and ethereal.

These people return to a void of nothingness to me; the void from which they came. They are the same as those people who exist only in my imagination, for their memories are just as real. Except I am supposed to separate the two; I am supposed to say that those who were real are real people, and those in my imagination are not. But where are these people now? There are only as real to me as my imagination; I can not prove them to be anymore.

I guess then that makes it a matter of faith and practicality. But that faith and practicality brings great sadness and loneliness to my heart. The empty hole inside me that used to harbor love, affection, consideration, feelings, analyses, syntheses and more for these people is undeniable. And maybe this is my only proof for their ultimate reality: a lack, an emptiness, a nothingness, a part of the void. The irony chills me unto ice.

I look out into the depth of night, at the deeply blue light of a sky with only the faintest twinge of the sun's sadness left in it, and it all makes sense. I am completely unreal. I am but a dream. As my favorite poetic Poe says, "Everything that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream." And thus is my life, and thus is the feeling I have.

I become completely submerged in the unreality of the universe, the infiniteness of life's sadness, the totality of an undefinable, uncontrollable, malleable, limitless dream. I lose definition, my senses drain from the image around me, I bleed into what I am not, I stop being separate. It's horrifying, but it's comforting. It does not have enough definition to be either, to be bad, to be good, to be evil, to be true.

But is it false? What is it is truth, and I am false? Am I not it as well? What am I? These questions don't even matter, and I don't even have the capacity to think of them when I am in such a way. I become the sadness, the dark blue swirling around in the black. Unreality hits me hard, and I spin into endless chaos in a swirling vortex of uncertainity.

I become emotions, but I feel their void all the greater. And it is here I feel the loss of those who have left, those who have drifted from my life. In a place where I can understand nothing, I cry out shrilly and with utter insanity; it is a cry of the utmost horror and betrayal. It shakes the very foundation of my soul, and shatters my heart into infinite tears of ice, that tear through the swirling blue and black around me.

In utter desperation, I cry for fairness, for an answer, for understanding. I want to bring them back, I don't want to exist in a void of chaos. By as my cry echoes into the eternally shifting waves of blue and black, it folds into such waves, the waves of a vast ocean of uncertainty and sadness. The cry loses shrillness, loses definition, starts to melt into deep blue and black. It pierces nothing but my heart, and so I drift without answer, as the only question I could ever ask seeps into unknowing and becomes unintelligible.

As so I drift for an untold eternity, and maybe many more. I lose hold of everything, my emotions swirl into ocean, dark blue and deep black. I am spread out infinitely, but without direction, never going anywhere, but always spreading. I have no conscious, and eventually my emotions lose all definition, and I cease to exist, or maybe I exist everywhere in the void at once. At this point, it doesn't matter.

I wake up. And I'm either back in my bed, startled from a horrifying nightmare, or standing in my room, staring out the window. The world bleeds into view, and I unclench my hands. I check the time, but the data is useless to me because I don't know when it all began, if it ever did. Then I rejoin the world, and wonder what world I'm really in today.

I fear the day I never wake up.