My mind is the battleground. War wages on between my imagination and reality. Strike, counter strike. We never rest. I’m awaken to images in my mind, being flipped through like a magazine, a thousand miles per hour. Back and forth. It’s overwhelming. It hurts.
Helpless, I’m stranded in the seam, the void, with nowhere to hide, nowhere to run. The dust never settles. The “what-ifs” of my imagination are bombarded by the “too-bads” of reality. This bloody war wages on. My end is near.
I’m neither here nor there. I’m nowhere, but I’m somewhere. Everyone is somewhere. Assaulted by time, it seems my only option is defeat. Yet, I carry on. I stand. I paint the happy face of a clown, but upside down. The tugging of a future’s past, on me, with every breathe.
I know reality wins. I’ve always known. I’m already standing at the finish line, watching it, watching my imagination fall. Misunderstood, I lie motionless, down in a hole. Reality has finally caught up to me. I’ve waited for what seemed like ages, but we finally meet.
It’s nice to meet you. I’ve watched you battle fiercely from a distance. You were relentless. It was an amazing spectacle. I didn’t join you because I found a place I liked better, a place where rules had no meaning, a place where the impossible became my true reality. I didn’t join you because I fell in love with the idea that I could do amazing things, and I did amazing things, in spite of you. So, as much as I’d love to stay and chat with you, I’m going back there and this is the last time you’ll see me. Good luck.