[rough sketch drawn in paint of janna the fool]
How arrogant of me. How foolish of me to think that it could be that i am the master of these figments. It could very well be that I am just the idea. These 'i think' statements that I create. It could all be an illusion. These typings, these thinkings. It could be that my 'thinking', these 'experiences' i have is just the creation of someone elses mind. That would be cruel. Making me think that I can think when I may just be a whiteboard showing projected images. The foolish shadow going of to think that it IS, it exists as itself on its own. How complicated. I cannot explain it well...but its like...some fictional character in a movie or a book...say, a scientist for instance. The scientist had formulated theories, so supposedly, these theories are his own. The product of his own mind. The scientist in his fictional reality thinks he is thinking. But sadly those are not his thoughts, his words. If somehow, he comes to life by some weird magical way, i wonder what he'd feel. To realize that what he thought of as his own, himself, his persona, was just something some other person created...its just sad. When the puppet realized it is tied to a string and did not really make his moves.

[and so the puppet looks up, and sees it all. picture above from office.microsoft.com]
What if, what ifs
.
What if reality is the dream, and it is in our dreams that we truly exist. Our minds may have just gotten tired of the instability that is the true reality, the shiftings, the constant blurs, the endless possiblilities...where just about anything and everything happens...the changes in dreams...and so it put together a new reality...the 'physical world' that we face when we wake up...all the years of freely changing, no consitency, no permanent existence. the energies (let's refer it as that for no word can really fit well right now) called souls came to want (by an unexplained reason) something that is somehow palpable...something permanent. just drifting along in space, it wanted to be contained...for it did not know how it is like, perhaps.

oh i don't know...the thought escaped me. some quirky idea such as that was bothering me before...still could not capture it with words.

if only thoughts and ideas can freely be transferred and made known to others, to avoid miscommunication that lead to negative results. many a thing cannot be expressed in words. words cannot contain so much. oh but this is the only possible way as of the moment. oh sigh. sigh. sigh of all sighs. how frustrated am i.

How i hope to be able to pour out my thoughts freely. How i hope to be able to tell, to decipher my own cryptic mind.

Just how do you know what it is you feel? How can you tell? I find those who say, who know it in them, that they know what they know and know what they feel. I cannot seem to find out my own meanings. Sometimes I'd think that it would be better if i could just have some sort of 'indicator' to indicate, to let me know what i feel or should feel. Like those rice cooker light indicators that let you know when the rice is done or is still boiling. Oh! and those moodrings...if only i have a system that could just easily tell me what is what.

free will. a blessing and a curse. good and bad. sometimes i'd wish to become a puppet and just rely solely on what the puppet master wants to do.

To think for myself, and to feel. I know it is a privelage. I bet many of the dead would want to think and feel again. but sometimes, I just don't want that power. to decide. complicated.

Too bad poems are not easily understood. its hard when your thoughts could only be expressed by ambiguous one liners.

sigh and sigh once more.

i envy those people who can go and blog on specific topics in one entry. I'm such a confused child that i can only do free writing.

Eyes i close, I fall awake.
And open them, I sleep.