In the mean time, I'll just keep singing along to the songs only I can hear in a voice only I'll recognize.
I want to let go of things... I want to have a week's worth of dreams unscarred by the faces of those I would rather forget.
I want to take the memories of certain events of the past that keep swimming through the muck and muddle in my brain, and release them to swim alone and unobtrusively in the vast rivers of the forgotten... however, I, myself, find myself swimming in those same rivers... blissfully yet regrettably forgotten.
I'm running out of places to hide from myself... the skeletons in my closet are taking up too much space, and they bitch when I smoke and utter under their breath glib comments about the frays at the bottom of my pants.
My view of myself differs so much from what I see in the mirror, as if the people in the mirror industry hired an awful Jacque impersonator for my own personal roast and the festivities occur every time a glimpse is sighted.
I imagine myself, lying on my back in a field of green grass and wild white daisies, a crisp white sundress, hair in a messy french braid, staring up into the sky, watching clouds float by in a gentle lazy breeze.
I imagine myself sitting on a dock as the sun sets across a lake, jeans rolled up, feet dangling in the water, watching the minnows nibbling at my toes and listening to the frogs' incessant 'brap brap brap' while cranes wade precariously in the shallows, scooping up their dinner.
I imagine myself dancing blissfully in the night to music only I can hear, moonbeams reflecting in my dark hair like stagelights, the stars applauding silently.
I imagine myself dangling by my knees from the thick branch of a tree, watching squirrels scamper by upside down.
I imagine myself intentionally lost in a forest, unhurriedly strolling between the trunks of ancient oaks and maples, gasping with delight at all of the many treasures hidden beneath the canopy.
I imagine a world that does not exist. I imagine a me that does not exist. And that makes me sad... and the sadness festers and grows into an imagination destroying worm, eating its way through the mealy portions of my brain and leaving a rotten goo behind.
The sky watching, sundress wearing figment of my imagination becomes a dying cow in a pasture, staring at the clouds and knowing that a last breath is coming soon.
The dock-sitting, foot dangling me becomes a big fat toad, watching the herons intently lest I become dinner.
The moonlit dancing figure swiftly morphs into a lost and forgotten half-deflated child's balloon, at the mercy of the wind.
The tree-dangling self can easily be mistaken for an abandoned kite carelessly flown too close to the far reaching branches, tattered and shredded.
Lost in the forest, my brain turns the reality into a grizzled unsuccessful hunter with a beer gut, a smoker's cough, and a target on his back.
I don't know why, when I'm staring into the sun, all I can see are the shadows of life... the potential dangers that lurk around every corner and under every rock... all I can hear are the malicious snickers and insults of unspoken voices... and the music in my head... but the music in my head is what makes it possible for me to erase the negative over and over again and repaint my imagination with the simple joys... until the brainworms eat away the optimism again and again.
Just keep staring into the sun... eventually, you'll go blind to the shadows in life... eventually, you'll just go blind.
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