Right now it's raining from my eyes. They hurt so much, and yet the rain pours down in broken streams. It's like a drought, a flood, at the same time. I don't know why, it doesn't make sense. I don't feel like thinking about it. At the moment, I feel sad, and yet I feel an odd sense of joy. It's all right, and I know that. But it's still raining, raining from my eyes, while the desert is still parched and burning. Today was just like any other day, except perhaps a bit worse. I know so many others must have felt the rain in their eyes before I have, but I don't think it's the same thing. None of this is the same for anyone. And that is why, right now, it is raining from my desert eyes. Everyone takes things differently, and sometimes it's hard to feel fine when something happens. It's raining from my eyes, and that's okay.
Outside the sun is shining, warming over the world. I look out through the window and see the patches of gold, a cat stretched out long in the golden grass. Slowly, as I keep looking on, it rises to its delicate paws and turns to face me. Its golden eyes are kind, it's mouth curled in a nice smile. Its fur burns like fire, such a wondrous golden hue, and as I continue to stare, it's fur truly does begin to burn. Its whole body bursts into glorious flames, consuming it, growing hotter in the sun's rays. Alarmed, I run outside, frightened and concerned. But the cat has disappeared, and the sun has hidden itself behind the clouds. I feel the silvery rain on my skin, and as I turn I see back through the window, where a silvery cat is stretched out long on my desk.
There is a quiet swish of a door, somewhere off to the left, somewhere that is unseen. She looks toward the sound, not sure where it came from, not entirely wanting to know either.
"Another has opened," she whispers to the empty space around here. "Another door, another way to go. Nothing linear."
And the empty space agrees with her. Its silence tells her that indeed there is nothing linear about this place, nothing is straight-forward, nothing is simple. She doesn't know how this silence confirms her thoughts, but then again she doesn't care. Maybe it's just her own thoughts, not those of emptiness. Either way, she decides, there is no way to know. There is no reason to care. For, another has opened, and there is no need -- no time -- to think about these sorts of things.
She tells herself to keep walking, to not bother with the other door. She sees several other open doors at the walls beside her, but she ignores them. This route feels promising. Another door, right in front of her, opens up, revealing more empty paths to follow. She pauses to think, and walks through the newly opened door. There is no reason not to, there is no feeling of not needing to enter.
There is a quiet click of a door, somewhere off behind her, somewhere she does not see. The door shuts, and she is unaware, and she keeps walking, confident that this is the correct route, telling herself that "another has opened" each time she hears a quiet swish. She tells herself that the emptiness confirms her thoughts, even though the thoughts might just be her own.
This hall is long, it is tiring, and you simply cannot stand being here. You don't know why you stand at its beginning, or why you walk through its belly. You watch the blank walls as you pass, not knowing what could be on the other side. Why don't you turn back now? Why must you keep walking ahead? This isn't what you came here to do. And yet, here you are, trying to find the end of something that is simply endless. You don't like thinking about the end, or, you suppose, a lack of ends. Both are sad, but so is trying to get to either. They show you something good, give you something to strive for, but then you're only disappointed that the experience is over. Or the experience never ends, and you're just perpetually stuck participating in something that you cannot stand. Like walking down a bright empty hall, wondering why in the world you are walking here, and wondering just why you're not heading back. And wondering why you're thinking about all this nonsense about ends that don't exist.