So, there are questions out there that you feel like you can ask your friends and get honest answers on. Like about how awkward your style or taste in music is, or about whether the person you’re dating seems right for you…or about which of the four horses of the apocalypse they could see you as.
I suspected it already (indeed, I have already posted about it before), but I asked K, just to be sure. We narrowed it down to War and Death, and apparently I am Death.
I’d write more on this, but I don’t see how I can.
I slept for barely six hours, and was prevented from dozing off very long this afternoon.
I’m also trying to comprehend how I’m channeling other people’s personalities at the moment…which I am apparently doing, since I’m looking at the chat bubble where K and I are talking, and I am reading my responses as they scroll up…doesn’t sound like me.
Maybe I’m tired.
I don’t feel nodding-off tired, but I do feel foggy…like I can’t focus and co-ordinate the thoughts in my head with the strokes of my fingers on the keys. Frustrating, that.
Still…I can acknowledge that K is probably right, and I was probably right.
And…I thought it earlier, before the question even came up, and I looked at myself and wondered how I allowed myself to become this one of the two light coloured horses…of how many people it took to kill me, and now that I am dead and still alive…whether it’s the dead portion with its tendency to accept what comes its way, or the live portion with its active and unafraid will that stands there and waits.
For what though? To what purpose?
For the buds that become leaves, and the gash on the palm that is a promise left in blood on the tree’s trunk…for the break in the seal that dyes the moon red and hurls it into the sea, where it can no longer wax and wane and own me…and for the rope on my neck and, increasingly, the bit in my mouth that says we’re ready to go.
I am so, so tired.