alone in the dark; foibles; my soul sings

sometimes, i'm alone in the dark. i will sit with all the lights off in my room, and pretend that the computer screen lit up ahead of me is my personal and only window into the world. how amazing it is that my mind can so quickly accept that small rectangle in my vision as my total perception of my world. soon i don't even know that there is a setting for this: my darkened room, the desk cluttered with overdue papers, my clothes strewn upon the floor... here, i'm able to train my senses to interact directly with my window. when i type words, it's a complete extension of my speech. when i switch to a different page, it is actually my head turning to look in another direction. the computer is a part of me, and i see what it shows me. welcome to the matrix, no?

but then, something incredible happens. my mind, though bonded, flesh and machine, starts in sudden activity. it is as though a buzzing swarm of bees has entered into my head, each drone carrying its pheromone message and honeyed load. my fingers and mouth are the exits, and my eyes are entrances to this hive. there are thoughts alive in my brain.

in this out of body experience, i forget who i am. all i know is the screen in front of me, and it is then nothing more than a game, a puzzle, a riddle that has challenged me. i am confident and determined. no task however ambiguous can overpower me. i have every tool at my disposal, with the adept hands to handle them. i grimly set upon the task. this me is my worst enemy.

who am i? i don't know who... so i should ask you? do you know who i am? if i don't know who i am, how would you know who i am? do i even know who you are? if i don't know you, then how can you know me? are you you? am i me? we are each other, but flawed, so we are not each other.

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the driver who hits the gas between red lights and stop signs. a man who eats two lunches for lunch to fill his stomach every day. a high five ignored. a extra pair of woolen socks sitting comfortably in the drawer back home. a thick textbook. a helmet left in the backseat. the two day trip to Tokyo from JFK. ethanol. a pack of ramen without a bowl. peanut butter and the allergic. the itsy-bitsy spider.

when i brought my umbrella every day but today when it poured. when i kept those games installed after swearing them off. when i went back to my room early to sleep early to wake early only to procrastinate and miss a good time with my friends that i denied myself. when i said i would write that paper on the weekend so that i could be with those friends now. when i missed the movie writing the paper. when everybody went to the club and i stayed behind (what a great time they said).

when i won that gum ball machine in fourth grade and left it in the open at school and had it stolen. when my best friend came over suddenly to proudly announce that he got into Harvard. when i listened patiently to her complain about her boyfriend again, and again. when i wrote over sixty pages of a novel about my high school life only to graduate from it and become unable to continue. when my friends were all at governor's school and i was mowing lawns.

when i lied and said that it wasn't my first kiss because my pride said that i had to be better. when i didn't go to ultimate after fighting with my dad so nobody would see the bandages on my neck. when i learned that she was still hurting from the breakup, more than two years later. the day my grandparents left me in america with parents i hadn't known for four years. when i said goodbye to my violin teacher after years of blood sweat and tears. when my parents used to lock me in the basement because i didn't get all A's in elementary school. when she said that maybe things had been different before, but we were just friends now. when my grandfather was battling prostate cancer. when you just don't trust me, and when i just can't trust you.

when i'm here, that's when i need You.

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at times, my soul cries. you can't see it, because i'm good at that. it's because of a spiritual spear that's been left in my heart. splinters going everywhere. my arms tug weakly. a single drop of blood collects at the left corner of my mouth. my brow is sweaty. but you don't see, because i'm good at that.

and yet, my soul cries. there are no tears when a soul cries. you know when your soul is crying because your stomach doesn't know hunger. you know when your soul is crying because your face is hot with frustration. you know, because you want to speak but you are afraid to shout. you know, don't you? you don't, because i'm good at that.

still, my soul cries. a heartbeat here, a heartbeat there. don't skip a single one, or it will be the death of you. don't miss a single beat here. don't miss a single beat. a single beat. a. single. beat. don't miss it. or else my soul might cry.

right now, my soul cries. you can't hear it, because my soul does not sob. it weeps a dry weeping, it sings a sad song. my soul sings a melancholy tune, a funeral dirge. are you conducting my soul?

so then, my soul cries. you don't have my soul. it sings, not for you, not for me. because this is no dirge or tune, this is not a mourning song or a happy ballad. my soul sings a song that is indescribable, that is celestial, that is above and beyond recognition. i do not know what song this is, and neither do you.

finally, my soul sings. we listen to it by paying close attention, lest we once again believe that it is crying. what does my soul say? let's take care and listen.

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please let me know what you think! =)