* Sorry, but this won't be my usual post. Just a piece of writing I have been working on for a bit of time now. Let me know what you think.
There are some days that I stand and stare at the wall in front of me. Describing it as a wall is the only way I can make sense of it, because it isn't really a wall. On one side it is serene, lucid, understanding. Closer to the wall it becomes quiet, peaceful, pulling. I think these feelings are emanated so close to it because it wants you to come over, to run to the other side, past this wall. For those that head toward it so fast, they don't sense this and run straight in and are lost forever. Some move toward it slower but still steady, fooled they become by the peaceful feeling and the pull, that they don't pause, but walk through. They might come out for a bit here and there, but always go back for longer periods of time. Then there are those like me, that hang around or walk along the wall, sensing the change, stopping to stare at it and try to make sense of what they see and feel.
Imagine if you will a deep fog, such in the way that you can't see your hand in front of your face. That fog appears to be something you can touch, to feel, to run your hand along. Once you put your hand on it, it goes through. Shivers crawl up your arm as the cold hits and a slight ripple can be seen forming along the wall where your hand disappears. The next thing that happens is what keeps me out, the sense of loss, nothing, confusion. A piece of you goes in, and all the feelings the wall emanates go away, all except for the pull, that, becomes stronger. Someone, or something grabbing onto you trying to coax you in deeper.
The only way I can defeat this pull is to turn my head and focus on things in the distance, in the clearness of what is behind me. Then the pull becomes weaker and almost like a pair of lovers hands letting go of one another, the fog caresses my hand as it lets it drop. Then and only then am I able to walk along the wall again, moving slowly away, back into the lucid world.
The wall knows I will be back and bides it's time, the wall knows that one day I wont be able to turn my head away, and will finally walk all the way in. Walk into the nothingness, the depth of loneliness and torture of insanity.
There are some days that I stand and stare at the wall in front of me. Describing it as a wall is the only way I can make sense of it, because it isn't really a wall. On one side it is serene, lucid, understanding. Closer to the wall it becomes quiet, peaceful, pulling. I think these feelings are emanated so close to it because it wants you to come over, to run to the other side, past this wall. For those that head toward it so fast, they don't sense this and run straight in and are lost forever. Some move toward it slower but still steady, fooled they become by the peaceful feeling and the pull, that they don't pause, but walk through. They might come out for a bit here and there, but always go back for longer periods of time. Then there are those like me, that hang around or walk along the wall, sensing the change, stopping to stare at it and try to make sense of what they see and feel.
Imagine if you will a deep fog, such in the way that you can't see your hand in front of your face. That fog appears to be something you can touch, to feel, to run your hand along. Once you put your hand on it, it goes through. Shivers crawl up your arm as the cold hits and a slight ripple can be seen forming along the wall where your hand disappears. The next thing that happens is what keeps me out, the sense of loss, nothing, confusion. A piece of you goes in, and all the feelings the wall emanates go away, all except for the pull, that, becomes stronger. Someone, or something grabbing onto you trying to coax you in deeper.
The only way I can defeat this pull is to turn my head and focus on things in the distance, in the clearness of what is behind me. Then the pull becomes weaker and almost like a pair of lovers hands letting go of one another, the fog caresses my hand as it lets it drop. Then and only then am I able to walk along the wall again, moving slowly away, back into the lucid world.
The wall knows I will be back and bides it's time, the wall knows that one day I wont be able to turn my head away, and will finally walk all the way in. Walk into the nothingness, the depth of loneliness and torture of insanity.
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