My mental landscape is a boulevard of wingless dreams, false starts, and a pile of what-would-have-beens. It's not enough that on many nights, the sailboat rows rudderless, the chilly water seeps in now, making it hard to move.
The jar of pill is empty, and I crave for a new fix, a new pastime, or better still, a new excuse to justify the fact that I'm not on the race course with the rest. At least on the dark days I could feel, and I had found a way to grope in the shadows.....but I do not know what to make of this colourlessness. It's not grayscale, It is no rainbow-like hue either, and for more moments than one tonight, I feel colour blind. These thoughts have executed an invasion and rendered my duvet useless, and their marching sounds won't be shut out, even by five pillows to each ear.
What do you do with a tree whose leaves hold colours that cannot be named? I miss the nights of plunging down the ocean, I could describe the situation then.....but not this. I can't wrap the fingers of my mind around what I feel. No, the question should be, is there even anything to feel? Logic is taking a power nap, and all the ones who said they would be on hand to cancel out the unsure moments are fast asleep.
I guess I'll just keep floating, that is, if I can call it that, it's difficult to make out a concrete description of your movements in undefined space.
Diary Entry by Jerry Chi