《Sanity》


 Mind

    The Mind


    *Gasp*


    My lungs feel inflated, almost as if a piece of fiber was stuck in there, and every breath I struggle to inhale found no avail in the ocean of fabric. My chest is becoming a little tighter, breathing more difficult. Several coughs and pats to the heart were sort of like a remedy for a congested neck, but that didn''t help. Just made my chest burn some more.


    Naturally, it didn''t take long for me to find myself at my knees, struggling for air. I scraped at the floor, pulling dirt into my nails as the exertion of my wheezing caught up to me, washing me in a cold realization that I am going to die.


    However, to my surprise, the lump which I thought might claim my life suddenly disappear, and so did the fabric like cushion within my neck as well as the ache of banging on my chest- everything- just poof, disappear as if they were never there. Weird.


    Regardless I welcome the fresh air that permeated my lung as I selfishly devour it like a hungry hippo. Death by choking would''ve been an uncool way to go.


    Ever since I watched Scarface, I had envisioned this grand idea of dying in a gunfight. Several pistols strapped all over my body, accompanied by the two Ak''s at arms with the euphoria of drugs carrying me as a passenger to near overdose. The blood rush I get when a bullet penetrates my flesh, finding a bone to nestle within...


    Ah¡­ no


    I''m getting excited. I should stop smiling. People might find me weird. A teenage boy on his knees with arms tightly wrapped around his neck as if in an attempt to take his own life while drooling wasn''t a¡­wait. Where am I? what is a hippo again? And what the hell is a Scarface.


    Wait...what was I saying again?


    Weird.


    Dusting my knees, I bring myself back to my feet. I am okay. It''s just the mind talking. I repeated in comfort.


    It has been a mantra of mine since I can remember. Whenever my mind starts to wander and get existentially curious, it is my way back to earth.


    Abusive parents, coupled with drugs, will do that to you. Trample your mind with a tumor of a malicious sea to shower the growth of an unpleasant frame of mind. There is never a moment of happy thoughts. Everything seems fake, and people are just an imitation of another. Their smile seems mechanical as I wonder whether it another of my'' friend'' my parent sent to¡­If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    There it is again! Gone! Just like that. Everything just suddenly became blurred like the shore of an ocean awaiting the wash of the next wave. They knew what''s to come. Unfortunately, they are powerless to stop it. They disappear like fading dreams and nothing to prove if it was real.


    What the fuck is going on with me. I grabbed my head in frustration. I am well aware that I am forgetting. When there is something close, yet I cannot seem to grasp it. It''s fucking frustrating. Like a trail of breadcrumbs that suddenly ends when more was expected, where the fuck is the rest of it!


    Ugh! Fuck it! I threw my arms up in surrender. Whatever is meant to be mine will come to stay.


    Now to a more important matter, where the fuck am I?


    It dark in all directions, except¡­beside me? This dull gray hue emanates in my vicinity, a low resolution that makes it easy to miss without scrutiny. I tried to find myself, maybe stare at myself. Is that even possible?


    Oh! I can''t look directly into my own eyes without external help, the same way how it impossible to bite my own tongue¡­. how did I know that¡­? Whatever.


    What about my limbs? I thought


    Immediately I took action. I tried raising a foot, and my mind immediately put the thoughts into motion; oddly, I could not see my feet. I achieved the same result with my hands as well. What the fuck is¡­Woah!


    The dark grand drape of the theater was suddenly pierced by a ball the size of bocce. It floated through the darkness, illuminating wherever it passes in the same dull gray color as... me? It seems to be drifting aimlessly, but its trajectory was towards me.


    "Hey!" I waved excitedly. I didn''t know what it was, but then again, I know nothing at all. Besides, it was better than the blankness that had accompanied so far. My excitement grew as it got closer for me to examine.


    Blaze! The grey light weren''t lights at all, but instead, a blaze of fiery fire dancing to the tune of a windless environment. They moved uncoordinatedly to an unknown tune as if in an attempt to disperse themselves to no avail¡ªsuch dismal.


    I stared at it in awe as it continued towards me, caught in a reminisce of old days as it washed over me like autumns winds.


    A life in play with musical notes like an entertainer in the limelight for others to scrutinize. Somber, heartbroken, a fragile existence meant to be owned and controlled by those who birthed him. What was its purpose? What was its existence? What was IT?


    I unconsciously veered off its course as the little bocce passed by me, traveling deeper into the darkness. I wanted to call out to it, but I had no strength in me to do so.


    What was that? Were those memories? Are they mine or the bocce? I calmed my heart in preparation to contemplate for clarity. These memories did not fade¡­not yet, at least. So, therefore, I need to grasp them before they do.


    But, before I can, the void was suddenly pierced once more by another bocce ball. Then another and another. Within seconds, the void was filled, illuminated by millions of starlight all blazing with a fiery dull gray. They peeled the theater curtain back with their presence as they sailed in the same direction as the pioneer. The sight threw my heart into gratifying glee; it''s so beautiful.


    However, I was forced to ask myself one simple question.


    Do I look like them? And if I do, does that mean everything I have felt and done was all in the mind?


    = PIMH

 The Idler

    Idler


    I once heard a man say we have seven selves who were all filled with discontent and seek to revolt. Within the stillest of nights, they sat and discussed their grievance amongst one another.


    Pain hated pain. Joy grew miserable from being joyous. Love couldn¡¯t bear to love any more. Hate hated and fears destruction. Thinking grew tired of thoughts. And the labor self was weary from working.


    They stood in concert with displeasing in tone, discussing who was to rebel against the body first.


    However, there stood in the darkest corner but a lone figure by itself who remained quiet through the throng. The self sits in the empty nowhere, with no destined fate as the six others who live daily re-creating life. Who dances when joyous, who cries when pained, who rages when hate, who loves when desire, and who surges with thoughts of unknown wonders.


    The lonely self, the dull self, the most worthless self. The solitary one, but at the same time, the most crucial one to preserve unison in our body. The idler.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    It looked on in quietness as the others vie for first place.


    As the discussion grew turbulent with no one willing to resign for the other. At this rate, they wouldn¡¯t be revolting against the body, but themselves, the idler spoke.


    ¡°Lo!¡± it said, ¡°daily you all go, with a preordained destiny in mind, with a brand and idea to accompany you every waking moment, a purpose. A strive, a reason that gives you vigor and temptation to remain as you are.¡±


    Resentment painting its voice, the idler continued. ¡°But not I. I sit in stillness as I watch you all carry on with passion, dreams, and weight of contemplation of what the morrow shall bring. I know what awaits me when the sun rises. The same visage as the days before.¡±


    The idler inhaled deeply. Its voice asserting a sort of pressure and pain ¡°So I ask you, egocentric neighbors, is it you or I that should rebel against this man.¡±


    And with his declaration, the other six grew taciturn, staring at the idler with pity and self-loathe at their selfishness. But not without a slight satisfaction of self. They retreated into the night in contemplation with renewed vigor and ambition for the rising sun.


    Yet the idler remained looking on into nothingness.


    As I lay awake at night. The crickets moaning, the darkness closing into profundity. My vacant eyes glued into the ceiling above. No thoughts barbed my mind, no pain pricked my flesh, no joy painted my face, no love tempted my heart, no hate for another being, and no labor to stress my glands.


    Just myself, the darkness, and vacant eyes stared deep into nothingness.


    = PIMH