byte by byte, an idea is transferred across wires, cables, and ports, until it collects in the base of a page. byte by byte, a page is filled with numbers and letters, nonsense to the untrained eye, until it collects and computer switches recognize code. 101100010110 is all it knows. it cannot see the big picture, but instead is focused on the infinite smallness of two simple numbers. these numbers build up, until their immensity and size force their way into meaning. byte by byte, a face is made out of nothing, a face is made out of numbers, out of ideas, out of small nothings. with time, the face becomes detailed, as more and more numbers pile up, fighting for the just cause of being heard. eyes. mouth. nose. lips. these things are only numbers now, only 1, only 0. but eyes dont want to be deceived, so they believe in a lie, believe in trickery so blatant. eyes tell brain, brain tells heart. heart tells soul. [because brain and soul are never connnected.] soul see’s through it all, but hides itself well. brain, still enjoying the sight of what is before it, triggers endorphins, triggers ideas, triggers an unhinged jaw.
byte by byte, nervous build ups transfer from one port to another. camera’s sip from the image greedily, and swallow quickly, knowing that sometimes what they eat is poison, so its best not to dwell on what it eats. speech stops. [gulp.] butterflies are frozen in time. a nod comes through one end, and appears at the other. relief, and one by one, butterflies find a perch.
the soul, watching it all happen, tries desperately not to interject. “this is going to hurt, you know” it says to itself, but why spoil a perfect moment with such grim overshadowing?
so much is happening inside, while nothing finds its way outside. ideas blur, and originality is lost in hesitation.
hundreds of scenarios are playing through my head. conversations ive never had, ideas ive always dreamed, and touches ive missed. it all started with a what-if [never give in, a small voice says! but give an inch, theyll take a mile.] now i cant seem to place my finger on anything anymore. i’ve lost my focus. i cant help but be distracted, [blank] is more than something simple to think about. everything is. which intrigues me, it draws me in. i used to believe that if i [pushed], you’d [push] back, but i dont know anymore.
nothing is constant. [the idea of static has always confused me. blurry televisions distract from the idea that something is not moving and keeping constant. maybe its the constant and ever occurring change of the white and black flecs on the screen that make it constant?]
emotions take rise now. they swell like an ocean and fill my veins with clouded decisions and even cloudier ideas. [letters] resurface every now and then on a bad night, but constantly the idea of nothingness haunts me. zero is an odd number. the lack of anything, really is a something. i dont want that something.
i want the sway of trees outside of a window fogged by heated debates between bodies. i want the thump of your heart as i swallow down butterflies, hoping there slippery powdered wings dont make me spit out irrational nothings and unimpressive somethings.
there goes another, and yet these ideas seem to escape through my fingers now. how much longer until they too become paralyzed by sleepless nights, or butterfly poison?
but now [brain things] take control and warn against fleeting returns. the easiest way to lose a perfect catch is to try to attract it too much, to give it to much attention, or attract through unnatural force. even fish swim away from too flashy of a lure. even mentioning this runs risks that i really dont want to take. [deactivate! conjured up problems do nothing to aid in the advancement of humans as a whole! cease and desist before [your mind]ful government fixes the problem for you. Have a Nice Day.]
with each and every step nerves fray a little bit more. the mind is racing. gray cement gives way to black pavement. look up, where are you? a parking lot.
a group of solemn men walks slowly, but with determination. a plan of action has been established, but no results can be promised. a few words here and there break through the stillness that makes up the air. wind tossles it around a little, chews on the words, and digests them to a place unknown to any.
two cars, both white, offer protection from fierce wind and watchful eyes. a small oblong blue capsule, full of a liquid anxious to dissipate to a noxious fume, is procured.
flnt. flnt. flnt.
before the fumes can ascend to the heavens, a spark catches them and quickly engulfs and hot-ly bullies the fumes into combusting. [and that ladies, and gentlemen, is fire.]
the lighter touches the tip of a dark, grape scented casing, inside of which a secret ingredient awaits to poison the lungs of suspecting individuals.
flame spreads from one energy to another, and in no time, the casing is smoldering. it lights brightly when placed on the lips, giving light to ideas and faces that await anxiously the secret ingredient. [breath in slowly, hold, then quickly breath again, release.] finally, after the fumes have gone from their original form, to fire, to casing, to substance, to smoke, they reach and fly lazily towards the heavens. the wind acknowledges it, and aids in its dispersal.
pupils dilate, and eyes take on a pink hue.
at first, nothing is felt, but then, edging on the side of the mind, a small, alternate reality is taking over. first its very easy to tell which is which, but slowly, ever so slowly, this alternate reality seems tangible. [close eyes] so much is going on. how long have i been standing here. when are we leaving? why am i so hungry? i cant wait to start walking. i wonder what he’ll say about this. that seems interesting. [open eyes]. bodies are still in the same position as before, nothing has changed, has it really only been a second?
time slows to a crawl. each second is halved, and then halved again, and then halved again, and each little fragment of a second is lived to its fullest potential, before being discarded to the wind. [open eyes]. wait, were eyes closed? ideas blur and confuse, and suddenly the tongue denies to form the proper words to explain anything. [they wont understand anyway.]
[before the second universe took over, a small, helpless voice cried “but wait, dont! you dont have to destroy me! curiosity killed the conscious.]
life is breaking down into some very basic and primal drives. its similair to maslow hierarchy, but i know i can live through them all if i really need.
food requirement: [met, on a bare minimum that consists of flavorless colorful things that resemble grilled cheese and fries.]
sleep requirement: [has yet to be met.]
shelter requirement: [met in the best of ways.]
friend requirement: [can never be met. no limit set.]
[blank] requirement: [so far [literally] from being met.]
euphoric requirement: [so close yet so far, at what point is too far, too far? if you feel ashamed? if you feel addicted? when your supply runs out? after what point can i say “thats the last time ill use that, i’ve felt all there is to feel!”]
went to the beach today! and yesterday! and the day before that i did something else summery, i just cant remember what it was.
but putting on swim trunks in fucking january? thats awesome! skim boarded until sunset both nights, and hung out with friends.
the dark of night was pretty sketchy though, drunkeness made everyone clumsy, made everyone obnoxious, and made me nostalgic.
wanted to blow up this entire weekend, felt so damn angry and sad. what is that huh? its the weekend! i need to learn to relax and take everyhtign with a grain of salt. or two for that matter, because my roommate is an ass when he’s high [and thats all the time!]
cheers to a good weekend, and hopefully, a good recovery tomorrow!