westid

out of the mind and into the dark. night time terror hanging off the strength of some meaningless remark. in the absence of sound, it’s not really your ear that rings. in the absence of everything, it’s only the mind’s interpretation of things. one night lately i went out and disappeared into the indecisive mist, far removed but not at the expense of what i promised. even though i weren’t sure which way we were going, the distance and getting there meant so much to me. even if there is nothing forever and ever amen, it’s no more or less significant than what your mind now probably just wanted it to be. when does it stop being simply what we look at and turn into whatever it is that our dreams manage to make us see? can those near narcoleptic hallucinations most people don’t remember when awakened get mistaken for the environment around us when you open your eyes and discover that you’re somewhere completely different than the place you thought reality would be.

nothing sophisticated about it, but a signal every 45 seconds to tell the other devices of its continuing presence and availability. doesn’t cost a penny to send or receive yet at the same time isn’t something you can expect to get for free. every stage of the process can be readily explained or rationalised enough to make your disappointment at the ultimate outcome a selfish and immature reaction to the situated position of logical neutrality. any logic you can give to serve your right to raise your concern will take too long to amount to more than an unspoken thus unanswerable regret that was waylaid by the length of time which elapsed beyond another unfortunate eventuality. you can let this bother you if you want to retain a pre-empted point you will never get to make again in the length of all the rest of your mortality. the rule of thumb is to refrain from letting forth your disdain become apparent because it’s always going to make an example of you so the rest of us can see how your own thoughts will only ever prejudice the future for you if you aren’t patient or grateful enough to let things turn out by thinking about your selfish objection to what would otherwise be a fair and well rationalised eventual actuality

you can either keep hoping for the numbers you choose to come in a humble yet highly unlikely outcome where you win the jackpot without calculating that much more than the numbers you play, like the time and the way you take your chances, are what goes into the overall probability; or you can stand alone and open up and hope that you get your message across before they all jump up to cut you down and feed you to yourself in handfuls of humility. it’s not granted at any moment of your life that you will reach the hearts and minds enough to justify the risk of trying to push back against the overwhelming waves of futility. in many of those cases, people who came before you were lifted completely out of existence and spend everything that’s left of what they are beyond that hidden from sight and mind, from behind some impenetrable and inescapable establishment facility. that doesn’t mean everyone who rocks the boat ends up on the wrong side of the individual against collective’s vast majority of cases’ fragility. on their way from the beginning to the end, we don’t all become this bound and gagged hourly-paid disposable / replaceable utility…

in the night light, the echoes of what have been are met with premonition but not acknowledged straight away which in our species is a staple cynical example fallacy. sometimes the story is told that gives us hope the passing of time can not speak for the amount of life lived, defies the level beyond the basic idea of prolonging your very own individual yet inevitable fatality