Harold woke up to the old woman sitting atop his chest again. She was smiling down at him, her teeth jagged stumps of blackened bones with dark ichor dripping from them. Her hair was lank and wet like something you'd pull out of a clogged sink. Her flesh was the green of baby poop and mashed kiwis. He couldn't move. She was crushing him. She was choking him. She said nothing, she only continued to throttle him. His bedroom door opened and the light shone in on the horrible crone. Harold's mother entered, folding his laundry and putting it away in dresser drawers. "Help, mom!" he tried to yell, but nothing came out. "Save me! She's killing me!" did not come either. His mother turned and looked at him, smiling a warm and sentimental smile over her dying son as the bitter old hag choked the life from him. Then, Harold's mother turned and left, closing the door behind him and condemning him to utter darkness; alone with the hag who would kill him.
I am in doubt about the nature of my existence. I seek a sanctuary in my mind where I can just be myself. Don't we all. IT's necessary. Our mind is our private escape. No harm can find us there. Unless it originates there. Scary to think that we can be our own worst enemies. IT's often said that no matter ho far we go the journey never ends until we find closure within ourself. I'm rambling. I know. This isn't easy. It will never be. I see that now. But it's necessary. I need to push through this. Fast. I need to get better.. I have a dream and this is the whetstone upon which I shall polish my skills until I mature into the artist I know I am capable of being. To better days. Farewell.
I don't remember the greatest thing I've ever seen. I'm too much in the moment and in the future. The past is spent gas. It's dissipated in to the atmosphere. There are things I would like to see, though. Like peace. Like a lion playing gentle with a lamb. Like a snake with no ill will, and no poison. We live in a finely designed ambiance. We are being tested from every direction. The conditions of the world push us and stretch us. We scrambled to make a dollar. We gorge ourselves on food. We abuse ourselves with exercise. We chart our every mood. I don't remember the greatest thing I've ever seen. That's not how it works. But I remember some horrifying things, which I will spare you from. No need painting pictures for the sake of pity-lust. We don't profit from that. We profit from using our today's well and positioning our destinations in the right places. We profit from building each other up, and positioning the right people in the right places.
Paris, France is my #2 place I most want to visit-after Tokyo, Japan. But after hearing of the terrible news going around in newspapers, social medias and other ways I can't believe it. Right now, I feel as though every second picture in my Instagram feed is #prayingforparis related. Pictures of The Eiffel Tower, captions with #prayingforparis...it's crazy. Terrorist attacks are terrible especially in such an awesome city with great landmarks. I can't believe what horrible shock I got when I heard of the news. First I saw it on Instagram then wondered "has something happened to Paris?". I asked my parents and they explained everything. I don't understand why such an awful thing happened to Paris.
I do not dream very much or if I do I forget them by morning. The scenes I think about include famous landmarks-The Eiffel Tower as an example, my paradise-beach/ocean/forest...and many others. A recent one I had was that I was at my house, with my BFF/Best Friend Forever, chillaxing and having fun. Going out-getting fresh air, drawing/doodling, searching the Internet, eating lunch...everything we love. I love using my imagination, awake and asleep. I don't remember others but some include me touring the world with friends, relaxing on a beach, winning a trivia quiz...