sometimes I doubt if I see my life in the same way as others around me do, a skewed version perhaps, as if reality is only the carnival mirror replica of my own ideas. See, I think of my life as a cage...not literally of course but emotionally, as if everything I touch has these tiny, minute silver strings threaded upward that disappear into the air above...so that every move I make, every step or slight brush of the hand sprout these strings and that at the end of the day, I'm so tangled up that I feel trapped in them, and what once were weightless, silver wisps of memory are now chains, thick and bulbous, choking me and leaving me to fall to my knees.
I know the idea is a bit far reaching for some but every moment makes a mark on the unconcious, albeit small in the ordinary avenues of the day, but it's there, that string, on every doorknob or car key or second glance...it's all there, and there's that moment right before when you know that what you do next will affect you in some way so that in 1 hour or 10 years, you will think of it or make a decision subconciously based upon it.
See, I don't believe in deja vu...I believe in those moments, you're simply remembering a memory you haven't had yet. You're remembering your strings.
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