She taught me that I was love. Yet she had never met me, or heard me. Or seen my flesh in real time, minute by shaking minute in my own tremble. It’s never on purpose, I swear. I am always just a little bit afraid, I don’t think it’s anybody’s fault. I think I’ve a frantic mind. She has started to notice, I can hear her getting frightened—she is talking craziness now. She’s not stopping and I can’t keep up with her. So I get down on the ground and do nothing but listen to her. Everything else now is not there anymore. It is these moments I want more of, the ones we never realize. The happening. I know now, how to allow myself to believe that there are no worries, to focus only on THIS, the moment.
Things imagined are almost always heightened. It’s called synthetic dreaming, or “synthetic happiness”. Everything is slightly or horrifically colorful and perfectly paced. Out of bounds and out of reality. So you see, I know that there c
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