salience
July 17, 2003
It's all quite alarming, really--for me to step back from my internal monologue and actually digest what I'm thinking. It's enough for me to ask, who are you, anyway?
Ever since I can remember, I have chased after fleeting thoughts for days, a temporary obssession. It begins with a random spark: an idea or an instance. And then I'm off, all what-ifs and maybes. It's all I can think about, all I can talk about. Those around me start to wonder if I'll make it, if the sugar rush will ever recede, if the intense fever will ever break.
It's as if a fierce thunderstorm swells in the summer sky. It floods my streets and soaks my clothes. I cannot see clearly and my shoes make slick contact with the pavement. Surely this has to be the worst storm of the season. Have you ever seen rain drops this big or skies this dark? Yet, I have never been more giddy. I am a five year old jumping in a lake of a puddle for the first time. I make a deal with nature, jumping into street puddles only to trip back onto the sidewalk. This is the Golden Rule, this is euphoria. I make my way down the road, savoring each jump. This is a taste I want to remember. And then it happens. I stumble from the exact spot I should have jumped. I can feel myself falling, but can do nothing but watch the wet ground race to meet my hands. The shock in my wrists is sharp, numbing. I can't feel anything, but I see the blood. All of a sudden the cuts sting and I sit there, frozen. The rain is pouring ice to me now. Someone, please come find me. Please help me home... I lay in the street, pleading for relief. You know God, if I just can just get home, I'll... And right before I blurt out a bargain with the divine, the rain stops. Steam sneaks from the street. Slowly I am able to pull myself up. And as quickly as it began, the storm is gone. My need is gone. Only blue fills the sky.
Ever since I can remember, I have chased after fleeting thoughts for days, a temporary obssession. It begins with a random spark: an idea or an instance. And then I'm off, all what-ifs and maybes. It's all I can think about, all I can talk about. Those around me start to wonder if I'll make it, if the sugar rush will ever recede, if the intense fever will ever break.
It's as if a fierce thunderstorm swells in the summer sky. It floods my streets and soaks my clothes. I cannot see clearly and my shoes make slick contact with the pavement. Surely this has to be the worst storm of the season. Have you ever seen rain drops this big or skies this dark? Yet, I have never been more giddy. I am a five year old jumping in a lake of a puddle for the first time. I make a deal with nature, jumping into street puddles only to trip back onto the sidewalk. This is the Golden Rule, this is euphoria. I make my way down the road, savoring each jump. This is a taste I want to remember. And then it happens. I stumble from the exact spot I should have jumped. I can feel myself falling, but can do nothing but watch the wet ground race to meet my hands. The shock in my wrists is sharp, numbing. I can't feel anything, but I see the blood. All of a sudden the cuts sting and I sit there, frozen. The rain is pouring ice to me now. Someone, please come find me. Please help me home... I lay in the street, pleading for relief. You know God, if I just can just get home, I'll... And right before I blurt out a bargain with the divine, the rain stops. Steam sneaks from the street. Slowly I am able to pull myself up. And as quickly as it began, the storm is gone. My need is gone. Only blue fills the sky.
lasaliente, 16:45
