It''s that tiny odd feeling in the back of your stomach that manipulates your heartbeats and controls your breathing. You
do not
really reckon its source and you''re not absolutely fond of it. It confuses you with its unexpected appearances and inappropriate timing... but you''re doomed to bear it. It''s that murky old silence that scares you occasionally and points out the fog around you. You do not necessarily hear it and sounds too vague to you. It confuses you with its loneliness and quietness... but it surely deafens you. It''s that cognitive dissonance that does not want to rest. You do know the ethics, the rules and the reality... but those incongruous beliefs and attitudes are just so damn ridiculous! And it is that combination of feelings, of silences and of conflicts that is just so damn draining.
It doesn''t want to rain. It doesn''t! And I have no idea why... I''m this little helpless ignorant that is typing by her window while it''s windy outside, egoistically enjoying that uncertain October breeze. But I do not know why it does not want to rain. Perhaps mother nature is on a strike. Perhaps she''s been so disapointed with us that she no longer cares to wash away our fears. Perhaps she''s on a break... and in her world, it is spring. Perhaps she skipped on Autumn... she has suffered enough that she awaits winter. But it''s so unfair... for winter is the rain season. And it does not want to rain, it just doesn''t.
Have I told you about my book? I am writing a book... Nothing really special and nothing fictive. It''s about me, my thoughts and my experiences. All about me. Nothing really special and nothing fictive. But what is so special is that I can be totally selective about my past and my present... i can even project my future! And no one will ever be able to object. I have no idea whether I''ll
commit to it or whether I''ll fall in love with it. It never asked me for love in the first place... But just in case I do not commit, I''m guessing he''ll be obliged to bear the heartache, despite him never asking me for love in the first place. But for now, and just for now, let us suppose I am to finish that book. Have I told you about my book? It is just about me. Me, me and me! Ok, perhaps I''m exagerating. Let us suppose it''s about Me, me and them. That should do it.
I wonder how it feels like to be the wind. It is just so free, so light and so powerful. It travels the universe in just a glimpse and then travel it once again. I would choose to fly, to travel the world... discover everything I''m curious about... and then I''d settle. Not in my room...I''d rest somewhere else. Somewhere where I would blow gently enough... and firmly enough. And then I''d settle again. Not in my room... somewhere else. Somewhere where I would be able to smell, touch and feel... I would blow mildly free... giving goose bumps willingly. And then I would be kind enough to grant rain... pouring rain.
It is very windy outside... but there is still no sign of rain. And tomorrow I''ll walk that same road again, four times... None of which would be under the rain...