The diluted past present in the subconscious; a struggle to wake without confusion.

We could spend days and nights and nights putting ourselves to rights, the world to shame and taking sips of delectable dialogue from gold plated paper cups without recognising the endeavor’s futility. The intensity yet irrelevance of days gone by, appear fictional. Unplanned adventures and spontaneous creativity sometimes take me back to those stateless, mindless moments; the moments where I had no control over myself. Or at least, that is what it feels like now. There is no opportunity to alter your past self. I am no longer this, but I am evolved from it. Although uncertain of what that is. The catharsis involved in those actions often deems me uncontrollably airborne towards the gravel walls of my grandparent’s house. Momentary glimpses of a life removed, fragmented between the stone cold reality of mortality, and that of horrifyingly magnificent eternal youth dreams. Both transcend their expected limitations and present themselves within the other.

Days and nights, days and nights… Oh how they can drag, one into the other, into the next, beyond the next. Lacking in conversions, the conscious and subconscious are indifined and frequently momentarily boundless. There are few defining features of my reality. Temperature, texture, light and emotion are not them. These features are present in both states. I often awaken, void of energy, chaotic. Uncertain if the life I think I live is the life I live. To awaken sometimes is so unreal. Its surreal. It is not always, that I awaken to reality; I often wake up into a dream. Never stationary, never still, I move and breathe, and feel…

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About bears8shelly

Writing is how I make sense of the world, my subconscious, and how I feel.
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