Fresh

Looking into a mirror I see a person I've never met before. There
are dark circles under the eyes, the skin looks pasty and years of not
knowing who that person is.
Looking into the mirror I can see everything that person is. I see it
all.
Before I went mad I used to be happy. Before I went mad I'd sit in a
bar and talk to people without thinking about anything but how much fun
it was. Before I went mad I'd sit on a chair and watch TV and I
wouldn't see anything but the bright colours on the screen and I
wouldn't hear anything but the voices from the TV. Before I went mad
I'd look out of the window and see what everyone else saw. Before I
went mad I'd go to the gym and I'd be able to lift weights and shower
without thinking that everyone could see inside my head and read my
thoughts. I'd walk and talk and laugh. Now I just think in tight
circles and I trap myself in my own head.
I used to dance and sing and shout. Now there's just a room and four
walls and the radio blaring. I listen to the sounds and wonder what
happened. Even at full volume the sounds are so far away. They leave me
adrift. I float. I focus inside my head and the world goes gray.
There's a voice there that tells me my past was all a mistake, the
present is a trap and my future is full of uncertainty. The voice tells
me to question everything. Am I doing the right thing, did I do the
right thing, will I do anything. It tells me that one day I will die,
so I might as well be dead now. I try not to listen, but I know the
voice is right. One day I'll die. One day it will all end and sometimes
that's the most comforting thought I can muster.

I'm sitting down now. In a cafe by the road in the city. Optimism is
just a word and I can't even grasp its meaning. It sits there in the
dictionary of my mind and I can spell it, can make out the creamy white
page behind it. But how can optimism fill that other huge word. How can
it fill emptiness? We all know the emptiness is there, but we fill it.
It fills with the people we meet with food with laughter, with things
we buy and wear with everything we do. But behind it all is that huge
void of great big emptiness that cannot be filled. We name the
emptiness. We call it boredom and fill it with thoughts to make it go
away. Always there. Indescribable. It hides behind every action and
every thing, The car we drive will one day be no more, the people we
meet will one day be dead. Even our memories will one day fade, making
everything we do empty in itself. We might struggle to fill it but it
is too big. The things we fill it with are empty of themselves, so how
can they do anything to fill that which they already are.
The coffee in my cup cools and the steam ceases to rise. A waiter
touches my chair by accident and I continue to look out at the traffic.
In a sports car in the street a woman slowly pulls her fingers through
long dark hair and I wonder at her thoughts.
What would happen if we could see each others thoughts. What would
happen if they had colours and meaning of themselves. Where would the
lies then hide. Could we then delude ourselves if the lies hung in the
air around us. Could we buy and sell, could we marry, could we then
pursue anything but our hearts desire. Or would we be happy to swim
through air thick with lies. Could we look in the mirror and see a face
we recognise so well that was surrounded by compromise and a misty fog
of self delusion. Could we live with bad memories, could we say
anything but the truth if we knew it would colour and darken our
haloes. What future then for cosmetics and well muscled arms if they
sat in the nastiness of our own lies on display. Where would we go to
mingle and find solace. Would pubs ans clubs and meeting places be
pitch black and full of voices we couldn't see; all just to complete
the trick of hiding from ourselves and each other. Would we take new
drugs to hide the soup of bad thoughts or would we all pursue lives of
wholeness dedicated to following our hearts. Would the music sound
distant and the voices of our conscience all the louder. Would
magazines be full of pictures of saints and sinners. Check Madonna's
lovely white aura with a delicious slice of red. And would our courts
be full of those with pure whiteness surrounding them, judging others
with a look and a contemplative stare.
Where would it all end if there was nothing but visible palpable truth
to confront us everywhere, and could we stand it if we saw
meaninglessness in our lives. Would the planet become hell as we tried
to hide from this awful visible evidence of how things truly are or
would we choose this truth as our guide and seek Nirvana.
I'm sitting in a cafe surrounded by the truth and I know it scares me.
I for one have to steel myself every time I look in the mirror. I've
taken to praying to the emptiness and using it as my guide and it
helps. Maybe one day I'll embrace it fully and walk in truth.
I know I'm mad when I see all these colours and when I believe others
can see the rainbow of my thoughts and the hazy mud of my doubt. I'm
mad all right. I'm beginning to believe its better than sanity. One day
when I find my own truth and the mist clears, I'll laugh at these days
of doubt. I'm still scared, but wouldn't you be if you could see that
truth?
My coffee's fully cold now and there's a dark ring on the white paper
table cloth. I dab at it with my napkin, but it just wont go away.