Snippets

What's this broken heart thing I hear about? As if experiences were permanent? You know how crazy people can see things that aren't there, but they exist in that person's universe? Just imagine that your heart is the crazy person, and the scars or open wounds are the figments. Seems easy enough to me.

Fuck.

Other news, that so-called story:

Wait. Maybe my eyes aren't entirely gone. Is it possible to see with only half an eye? I seem to remember feeling the worms, but I'm not so sure now. I feel some sensation of light within my little box, but I'm not sure if the light is something I see, or something I remember.

I used to spend Friday nights drinking on the pier with my old friends, telling each other our favorite tired old lies. We would sit on those creaky old camp chairs until early in the morning, talking while the sun warmed the brine soaked pier. Words mattered all those years ago, but now all I remember is that faint, almost imperceptible change, that moment when you knew the next day had begun, but the sun was still sunken behind the waves.

I can feel that now, that pull, or maybe the anticipation of a pull. This dream is worse than life, worse than what death should be like. I wish I could make my mind flat, and forget the faint grey light I can see around the edges of my coffin.