My mind wrestles back and forth with ideas on this cool night. It’s not a battle. It’s more of the urge to explain the ideas of life that never once came to mind, but when all is peaceful in the world for moments in time that we might never get back, it’s best to leave behind knowledge we can come back to.
At what point in our lives do we reach the event horizon? The point of which life begins and all that came before this point will not longer exist? I have dreamed many a dream, questioned many thoughts and ideas that have been brought to my attention or by my own creation, and experienced parts of a life I wish I hadn’t. But at what point did my childhood end and the realities of this world begin? Have I only grown in the physical body of a man and remained with the child spirit in side of me, or has the child grown and the man is what I must ultimately discover?
It’s become strange to me. The sensations I have felt over the past few years. Feelings of isolation, feeling of love, feelings of complete desire for one human being, and the demand for the complete destruction of others. As a child, I thought not of these things, but I was ever more the creator. Visiting places in my mind I had convinced myself at one point before my physical existence I had once seen and visited. Even now, when all is quiet in the world, I can still see those places. They are not locked away in the dreams of my mind, but in the ink and paper of my notebooks and journals. They no longer exist in the world I once felt safe in. At some point in my physical existence, I reached the event horizon of childhood and my mind was taken somewhere where logic was the dominant force and the world forged by my imagination had been removed or at least my visitation was limited.
This world, this real world, is so strange to me. It is as strange as a science I’ve never studied, a peace of music I’ve never heard before, or a language I’ve never heard spoken. This world robs people of the mysticism of their dreams, bans them from the comfort of their imaginations, and rapes them into accepting only what they can see and what others want them to believe. What world is this? In who’s imagination have I become entrapped in? People here can be killed, they can be hurt, they can be destroyed, dreams can be shattered, ambitions can be made hopeless, and people no longer believe, they only follow those who have created ideas before them and create none for themselves.
I long for the nurturing safety of my former thoughts. I beg to be brought back to the sanctity of the society of my mind where no one can be destroyed but only changed. Where dreams still mean everything. But demand as I might, I have crossed this event horizon. I must remain here and accept that which I did not ask for, I did not request, but it has been given to me. I must accept that my powers are useless here. My mind can only create on canvas and pieces of paper because even my dreams have been robbed of their special places they had once taken me. Now they’re filled with visions of this world. This world where I am a stranger. This world where happiness must be found and sadness is readily available for the taking. I must find myself. I must find the dreams I may not have left behind. Perhaps, I have yet to cross over….
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