#why try to decode your yearning when you can make memes

[kuuttituutti]

[ecotone99]

[RF] A scattered narrative of disassociation :or: Her story

I want to tell you a story.

Her story.

It’s like the ones I usually tell. No, this one will be written by her and her alone. She is, after all, the mastermind behind all this. The author, if you will.

Shall I introduce you to her? You’ve must have met her before. Seen her everyday of your life, actually. She’s pretty shy you know, doesn’t talk, doesn’t get out much, doesn’t know who she is yet, really.

I don’t get wet though the ocean sprays me. I don’t get erect though the devils chase me. I have to know before the wind and hope it doesn’t damn me. I’m a wisp, a waifu, a wife, though only one at a time. I follow that dream into the sunset then make up the next day. Maybe if I stay awake longer the dream will persist. A sentiment without thought or image existing into a form permeable through the pores of my skin. I’m an adaptable maladaptive. A sore upon the psyche. Breathe in and I am here, breathe out and I am here, breathe in and out and I am gone. There is chaos in the ordered automatic, a great yearning for the imposed struggle. I can plunge into the abyss until my feet touch the ground. There is no fear of falling, there is a fear of heights. I am falling from a great height from a low point in a high mind. Oh, how tall the sky is! How majestic blue prisms peak behind ashen clouds of water and dust that cloud around my hair and whisper, “you’re not short enough, your hair’s not long enough.” Space vacuum above me, hello stars, hello moon, termite mound below me, I can’t fit through that hole. This is how they view me. This is how I view myself. This is how they warn me. This is how I stop myself.

She’s asking why she’s denied the love you so easily possessed.

I’ll try my best to decode her words, but this is all stream of consciousness type stuff. You know, the usual angsty teen drivel. Eh, it’s not all drivel, I guess. There’s a lot of rich thought behind what she’s saying, but it’s all lost in her poetic endearments to the inanimate and sentimental. And her crushing dysphoria.

I left with the wind. Yes, that is what I will call myself. Alice. Wind-child. As true as the meaning I gave to it.

I don’t think the name “Alice” has anything to do with the wind outside of her calling herself that when the wind was blowing through her hair.

Oh, look I was distracted again. By myself? Possibly. Am I by myself? Absolutely.

How poignant.

I want to get a haircut. Not to cut it short, but to make it longer. A haircut like a shortcut. A long way away.

This is what dysphoria does to people, I assume. What’s never enough is never good enough.

I’ve gotta learn how to read. Then the signs this guy’s giving me will finally be clear. Clear. I’d love to be. Body, soul, and mind through the life of Christ led us to death to save us all, hallelujah.

Ah, now we’re getting into the big question, “am I a good Christian?” I’ve heard her talk about this one before. There’s a lot to digest here and it’s not all about her questioning herself… well, actually yea, it all about her questioning herself let’s continue.

I remember a conversation with my father a couple of years ago. He talked about something I can’t remember. Either due to lack of focus, or lack of remembering. Either one is the same result, and therefore the same thing. I wasn’t listening.

She’s referring to her confessing homosexual inclinations to her father. He was as dismissive as she was aloof about the whole situation. She convinced herself that she had nothing to fear, and her father did the same. Her inability to communicate intimately with her father further compounded her self-doubt.

It’s more important to do one thing than another. Of course, that much is truthful and honest.

Is she talking about anything specific here? I don’t know, probably. Let’s just assume it’s about the main topic and not something wildly off key.

Dream on you little dreamer, you’ll fall asleep soon.

Ok yea, this is starting to sound wildly off key. I think she’s about to go on an incoherent tangent.

Don’t you know everyone’s out there waiting for you? They’ll be over soon. Forget what I said earlier, this isn’t about you, this is about me, and all reality and metaphor turns, to attention towards it and wonders.

Oh look, I was right.

How soon can we go? How soon can we see? How soon can we wander and wonder and be? Well there’s nothing quite like it, and that’s easy to tell. I love you so much, in heaven or hell.

That last part is the instance of identifiable meaning. You think I’m transcribing more than I should but trust me, I can’t keep up with how fast this girl thinks. I’d say “how much” she thinks, but that’d imply a theory of value that I’m unconvinced her “thought process” has. Regardless, she deserves credit for what she’s doing. She’s scraping the bottom of the proverbial barrel for answers to questions she’s never asked.

Goodness gracious, now she’s got me all cryptic. Sorry, I’ll try to keep things straight in the future.

Let’s see what else she has to say first though.

She wants to go back to what she was talking about earlier, that part about loving someone in heaven or hell. I’m pretty curious about that part myself so I’m glad she’s addressing it again.

“Heaven and Hell,” she explains, “are full of God’s… Hello!” she got distracted by someone walking by.

Except that whole interaction was in her head, which she hasn’t gotten out of yet.

…

Are you just not gonna talk now Alice?

…

Because of what I said? Really?

…

Ok, fine! Sorry for hurting your feelings Alice, please continue talking about how much “big sad” you experience on a daily basis.

… ?

And you’re a beautiful person who is visible and valid and blah blah blah I love you get on with it.

“Did he name all things,” she asked to the paper sky, “or did he command us to argue about whether or not he’s a guy?”

Language is the only weapon God gave us. Creation gave everything purpose, language gave everything meaning. God created Adam and Eve, but we created man and woman.

What? That doesn’t make sense?

Ok, Alice wants me to explain what we’re trying to say here. Basically, God created Adam and Eve, but it was our language, our understanding of what it MEANT to be Adam and Eve that made them “Adam” and “Eve” or “man” and “woman.” Speaking of which (pun intended), how do we even know they were called “Adam” and “Eve?” There wasn’t the separation of language yet, so what they were speaking in God tongue? Did their names “sound” like Adam and Eve in English? Or did they sound like their respective names in every modern language. Blah, too many questions to assume it’s binary, hope that clears things up though!

It didn’t?

Well, too bad, read the Bible.

“Hello friend,” Wait, who’s she talking to again? That random guy, or me? “I’d like to get to know you, if you don’t mind too terribly.”

Wait, Alice gimmie a sec, let me get back on track here…

“It’s like getting drunk in prison...”

And there she goes.

“…there’s nowhere to loose an aching mind, so it leaks all across the eyes and tongue.”

Ok? You feel stuck in your head, alright we got that part, go on.

“It’s like strips of newspaper,” I don’t know where she got that analogy from. Maybe taking a story apart to suit your narrative? “you take it apart and the words fall apart. What am I supposed to read? What am I supposed to wear?”

Maybe she’s talking about how she’s restructuring her life around her thought? The questions themselves imply a measure of dualism, like she’s bouncing ideas off herself.

Oh, does that mean I’m supposed to answer her questions then? Cause I know what she wants in these, Reddit memes and swooshy skirts.

“What am I supposed… to think?” now we’re getting somewhere.

…

Hm, she went silent for a bit there. I tried asking her what she was thinking about, but she was too busy thinking. I suppose that was an appropriate reaction.

…

She’s still not talking. Great. I want her to break down her character. Deconstruct rather than decompose for once. Her questions were reaching into the belly of the beast, why didn’t she keep going?

There are many things out to get me at once. All looking to change my opinion all looking to change who I am. Let me make this perfectly clear, who I am, will never change, I am as I as I can be. There is no other I but I if you believe me but be careful that you do for you’ll wish you didn’t. Forget what I’ve been saying. If you do this, then all will be well with you. Because if you consider what I’m saying, I shouldn’t be saying it.

Alice. Alice, c’mon. C’mon on out. I’m not going to hurt you.

You see that horizon, Alice? It’s not the sun you’re looking at, it’s an angel breaking through the clouds like a dream sequestered on music and art as a combination of Heaven and Verse. There is only one outcome. Euphoria.

That didn’t make any sense. I know. But neither does this feeling, so why should the explanation lie about it?

“I wonder if they wrote the Bible this way,” she wonders, “I wonder if this is how the…

I want my happiness to blossom

Not fade in the morning light

So I’ll stay within my daydream

And sink into the sun.

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