Heaven Is Still Just A Question
2001-01-19 - 22:30:26
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A couple days ago, I got a photograph from heaven. I had forgotten what it looked like, and I�m really glad it was airmailed when it was. My favorite angel and I are in matching hats and mittens...*le sigh* If a picture is worth a thousand words, this one is worth a lifetime...Do you have any idea how expensive it is to get a darkroom in heaven?
I feel so...two-dimensional. I wave my hand to gesture �hello�, and it goes up sideways, unable to remove itself from my personal plane of existence. I feel two-dimensional because of apathy; my heart refuses to beat in three-dimensions, and open itself up to anyone but itself. My two-dimensional feet are falling through the floor, caught in-between the cracks. I can feel myself falling behind this semester, just like the last...even though I promised myself it wouldn�t happen. But the real question still persists: How do you convince a two-dimensional person that he has a right-hand mitten on his left hand? Maybe if you cut the thumb off, and put it on the other side...then he�d realize that the glove fits either way...and it never really mattered in the first place.
I brushed my teeth outside today. I stood in a snowbank in my t-shirt, and simply brushed my teeth...for nearly an hour. Yes, that�s as exciting as my life gets.
I used to use paperclips for everything. I used them to pick locks, cut off circulation to my fingers, poke people, and write bible quotations on bathroom walls. I bent them into people and little animals, so they could have little paperclip lives on my desk, and praise �the creator�. I ate my food with paperclips, linked them into chains and wrapped them around the length of my arm. At night, I�d curl up with my mind and a paperclip, to see what I was really thinking, deep down...I used to use paperclips for everything...now, I tend to use staples.
My muscles twitch. I twitch a lot. My calves have flat spots, where the muscle just stopped expanding. I have small flats on the medial ends of my biceps too...one big square machine.
Becca wrote something today: �There's no more me and my favorite color crayon (a reference to yours truly), there's me and Kyle, surreal, exhausting and confused. but it works. Works all the same...works well, in a realistic way. I don�t feel as though i�m the main character in some fairytale anymore. Sigh. I have to go now...� Strange. I never knew she didn�t want a fairy tale, never knew things could really be �too good to be true�.
