//------------------------------// // One // Story: Perspectives // by Polarity //------------------------------// Every time my eyes open, it feels like the first time. I've never breathed quite so deeply, than when I came here. Every movement feels like I'm at my peak. To begin my story, I have to tell you that I am a... complicated sometimes insane recovering Man. And my name is Cim. I found this place, following a dream. I had been walking for weeks. I had finally given myself the motivation to plan for it. Planning, for what was probably going to be my end. I had become like blind, seeing color but not form. My mind was slipping for my efforts. So I didn't notice the change. And that in itself is amazing. An amazing declaration of the human body. And how it copes with suffering. But the change... How could I have not noticed? Now? Now, it seems like I'm on a entirely different planet. The change was... breathtaking. But enough preamble. Let us begin the story. I can feel everything beneath my shoes. I can feel every rock and root; they keep me here. They keep me, my shoes and how I feel through them, here. Here; Here, where a man was once defined by his work and the effort put into it. Here, where the sky becomes more hazy with every year. Here, where "equality" just means power to the minority. And here, where the little beauty is found there; there when the parallels form, or is it where the inspiration grows? I need to rest again. I've been walking nonstop for several hours since before dawn. There. That log, that looks semi dry. Ah, there we go. Feels good to take forty pounds off my back, every time, surprisingly; or not surprisingly, depending on how you look at it. You see, I'm trying to stop thinking... hopefully at all. Become enriched in the now. All that jazz. I've been trying for so long now. I've been trying so many different things. I call them escapes. And I've tried escaping through music. And prose. And movies. And film making. And reading. And writing. And games. And sheer learning. Through trips, planned in advanced. Through, random excursions, letting the wind guide me and my feet carry. So here I am now, several weeks into this middle ground I found. This planned, but unplanned stroll. Ha! To call it a stroll is to call the Atlantic Ocean a mere lake. But a stroll it is. For that is how far I let myself see my future. The whole trying not to think thing, remember? But I'm failing miserably at it. Because even now, I'm writing this in my mind, this inner monologue, thought in form, this... book, you might call it I write. This book is written everyday, every hour, every pause in my breath, is filled with this burden of thought. Why do I write this to myself, in the intention for others to read. This is but one of the few handful of things I don't know about myself yet... But I do know why, I just refuse to acknowledge it. DAMN THIS BURDEN. DAMN THIS INFERNAL CIRCLE OF THOUGHT. Damn me. It is time to walk again. A cliff. Here I am, there. I see down, to the water. It shines like a thread of hope. But it's so far down. What do you care? You know why you embarked here, there. You know what you hoped. Should I go down? I see no way than the one in front of me. So? You were never afraid to fall. How can one be afraid to fall, when he is already at the bottom. I can't answer, myself. Looking there, here. I paint the water there, here. In my mind. Cursed thought. Blessed memory. Thought without thinking, bubbling forth from their own will. Brings me a small measure of peace. Along with what I remember. Parallels drawn in the sand, the wave comes. Only partly gone. Movement on the brown. Blurred upwards. Shimmering gold through green. I feel myself smile. Gone now. When I feel my memory, I feel the gold. For it always is... gold. Even my pain. My first memory is of my altered perception, through red. Red surrounded by gold. Mustn't dwell, else the circle come. May I fall tomorrow. I see a trail. There, off to the side. It's an animal path. I'm going to go down it. I can remember the other trails I've found. One, leading to a forest glade, covered in canopy. Another, going to a hidden well, long broken and ruined. Yet another, a broken house, filled with memory. I hope this one leads me to something equally beautiful. There is a few broken branches here. Maybe a bear. Now, a few deer tracks. They branch off the path. A fox is here, I can smell it's musk. It is hiding from me. There! An opening in the forest! I cannot wait to see what is on the other side. Its... a field of purple flowers. There is a hill in the middle... Bare of growth at the top... There now, at the top. Strange, the growth forms a perfect ring around the barren soil. Stranger still, I can smell the richness of the soil... It's almost overpoweringly comforting and peaceful... But that may be my memory. Walking with my father, to the top of the cliff, the ground is brown and gold. I smell my grandmothers hands when she comes in from gardening, her fingernails are caked with brown and gold. I'm on the ground crying, not from physical pain. My vision is halved by blue, brown, and gold. I will meditate and sleep here at the top, tonight. Blessed stillness. My mind is still. For a moment. I hear the crack of a twig. Silence, broken. Now I must set up camp. I can feel my actions, they require no thought. More time to remember. My father is guiding my hands, setting up the family tent. The tent is grey, and gold. Success! I finally made my first fire through friction. The embers are red, and gold. A coal fell from the fire. My father sees me staring at it. He tells me, "If you pick it up and throw it fast enough, back into the fire, you won't get burned." I try it, and I succeed. I see him smiling at me. His smile is white and gold. There, all busy work is done. Food has been made, and eaten. Refuse has been buried far down wind. Dishes hung far from here. All that is left is my fire and tent. I focus on the flames until none remain. The moon is bright tonight. I see the moon and stars, and feel my memory, merge. I see blue, white, and gold. So beautiful. Time for thoughtless sleep. I dream tonight. First time in a long time. I dream of shifting worlds, and magic. There is no gold.