Friday, January 3, 2014

343 - Utopia [ Or a fucked up dream I've had over and over, recently ]

Every one looks for some thing. Every one has a perfection in their mind, a view on perfection.
For me, this is not it. I do not mean where I'm living at, nor what I'm doing. This whole thing, where I came in the play is just not what it should have been. Hell, I barely understand my role and where I came in. I normally don't end up having the co-actors I want, or they just appear, and as soon as I realize how bad I want them to be in my acts, they just disappear, or the play would find them a way to be totally on another side of the story. [ Exceptions occur, and I'm totally thankful for those, don't know to what I'm thankful though ]

For me, deep inside, I'd rather live in my codes. Rather live inside my computer. I'm leading life there, I'm the creator, I'm the GOD!

I've had this totally screwed up nightmare which I'd rather call a dream, a couple of times in the past weeks. I see my self sitting in front of my computer, I grab a knife, and tear my chest apart. I can see my blood pouring on my screen, my blood going into the keyboard, and I feel, Ah, this is good. My blood is running where there is the act I wrote. Where I'm the director, and where I decide every single step.
And then I snap out of it. Call me a maniac or any thing like that, I'm sick, we all know.
I can see my self, my body, collecting all the blood back in. I can see that even last drops would not stay between keyboard buttons. It's not like putting the movie to go in reverse, no. The knife is elsewhere, and I start feeling my body again. I look down, and the skin is coming back together, and the last bits of blood are being sucked back in, since well, looks like my fat body needs all the blood it can get.
I get up, wash my face like nothing has happened. Looking at the mirror, I close my eyes again, and once again I feel the awesomeness of my blood running in between keyboard buttons, how I was one with my creations, how I was feeling like nothing can hurt me, my immortality. I open my eyes again, and as I stare into my face in the mirror, I wake up.