Whimsitastiflast

by

Look sharp, say something interesting. I was better… once. The mayor is going to town. Can I be better again?

Words interspersed with words: nothing more.

Control’s an illusion anyway, and contradiction is fact.

I’ll see if I can bloggificate tonight,

I thought, frowning.

That’s odd. I didn’t mean to think that. Problem being that I just got home and already I have to wake up in less than eight hours.  

Is it possible my thoughts are not entirely my own?

I’ve been home. Clearly. I’m finished with my responsibilities for the weekend. I hate day shifts after night shifts. But that’s fine. I have nothing to wake up for in the morning, so I have nothing to worry about. When, I think, was the last time I had a day shift after a night shift? Ever? Why, then, would I presume to hate them?

The contradictions are easily explained away after the fact. Almost as if the context were merely adopted afterwards to explain a break in consciousness. I wonder. If my thoughts are not entirely my own, whose, then, are they?

Or what’s?

They’ve been lurking in the periphery for the longest time. ? Muttering. Whispering. uh Patient and green. They are part of it: of that I’m sure. And patient, yes. Patient as a tree can be. You are an individual, yes. But you have to be patient, too. Oh let the light shine on my face.

Individual action is more effective, after all. Light- surrounding. Enveloping.

Wait.

Light.

Sun. Rays. Warmth. The concept is as familiar as the idea of rain. And even that- it’s toxic somehow. External.

What are you doing?

I asked myself. You’ve wasted enough time. The time now is for action, not thought. Oh, I’m sorry. What are you taking? And yet thoughts, contradictory and non-

taking. taking. taking.

Giving. Sharing.

Not my own thought, but someone else’s. An intruder. Interesting. It was easy enough at first to explain it away- But the strange shear… The intuitive jump… it’s not just fast- it’s external altogether. I am invaded and you are the assaulting party.

I must now examine my every thought- each could be a turncoat, a spy, an assassin. But is that me? Or is it them? Trust me. It’s all you…On the other hand, trust is something I can’t afford. Not at this moment. Not in this situation.

Advertisements

Tags:

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s


%d bloggers like this: