Post by Raine on Feb 15, 2009 13:41:16 GMT -5
Okay guys, well I'm starting to write a memoir. This is what goes on in my head.
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In my mind, constant spirals of motion buzz. But not the kind of motion most people know of. This motion is more still. More still than normal stillness. This motion makes everything distorted, and like it's playing in slow motion, and your mind is the only thing playing in normal speed. When this motion falls over everything, all there is is buzzing- like flourescent lights.
The sound commands thoughts, sounds, pictures, words, voices. Buzz, my mind is ringing, falling into hyperdrive. Buzz buzz- too many thoughts. Buzzz- this time slower. I feel like I'm cracking into pieces, I curl into a ball hugging my knees tightly to my chest so i wont break. But it's too late, everything is going all hazy.
It's a strange place for many reasons. One would be that when you are 'there' you can not comprehend anything from 'here', not even that you are anyplace, you simply exist, a splash of colour amongst an endless void of inky waves. Another queer thing about 'there', is that when you leave, you aren't the same you as you were when you arrived, anything before your departure is a foreign mesh of pictures and half-muted words, played like an old record sometime skipping, and sometimes playing over and over again. And until someone or something triggers them into making sense, you are withput hope for remembering the past.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In my mind, constant spirals of motion buzz. But not the kind of motion most people know of. This motion is more still. More still than normal stillness. This motion makes everything distorted, and like it's playing in slow motion, and your mind is the only thing playing in normal speed. When this motion falls over everything, all there is is buzzing- like flourescent lights.
The sound commands thoughts, sounds, pictures, words, voices. Buzz, my mind is ringing, falling into hyperdrive. Buzz buzz- too many thoughts. Buzzz- this time slower. I feel like I'm cracking into pieces, I curl into a ball hugging my knees tightly to my chest so i wont break. But it's too late, everything is going all hazy.
It's a strange place for many reasons. One would be that when you are 'there' you can not comprehend anything from 'here', not even that you are anyplace, you simply exist, a splash of colour amongst an endless void of inky waves. Another queer thing about 'there', is that when you leave, you aren't the same you as you were when you arrived, anything before your departure is a foreign mesh of pictures and half-muted words, played like an old record sometime skipping, and sometimes playing over and over again. And until someone or something triggers them into making sense, you are withput hope for remembering the past.
