| I too have a portfolio due... next week? I should really find out when that is... But, I wouldn't mind some feedback on at least two pieces I have. One is more refined than the other, but both are worth reading... I think. Here's a sample to tide you over, seeing how I can't get any work done today.
I think too much, I think to myself. I'm certain that I have some learning disability. That my mind isn't quite right, yet... I can't place my finger on what it is. Always something to think about when you're doing nothing, when you're doing something, when you're doing anything. Tick-tock, tick-tock says the clock as the day slips by with my mind slowly peeling back the facade of a preconceived self-awareness that isn't aware of the problems it's truly plagued with.
I'm going blind. Halos accompany any light source these days. The corneas are swelling due to the lack of air they receive. Pity that you can't see colors anymore when you're blind. "Pity you can see yourself in the mirror anymore when you're blind," I say outloud, as my reflection stares back. My mind won't last much longer if my eyes go. What use is a mind, or eyes for that matter if you don't have one or the other?
Food has begun to lose its taste for me. The flavors run together to form a chalky residue that rests at the back of my throat. I reach out with my right hand to grab the glass of water sitting on my nightstand. "Give me anything to douse this taste!" I scream. Anything to rinse it down my throat! I hit the table hard, sending the glass into a wobble. My hand has fallen asleep and I can't grip anything. I roll onto my right side and pull on the lamp chain with my left hand. Ah, success! My eyes have trouble adjusting to the sudden bombardment of light. The halos shroud the room. White. Quiet, white. Almost serene. I find the glass and gulp down the quarter of its remnants. Eyes still blurred, I can hardly make out my own hands in front of my face. Wait... WAIT! WHAT THE FUCK!!! THERE IS NO RIGHT HAND! This much blurriness is clear. I somehow managed to lose my hand between the time I went to bed and now. The mind is racing in an attempt to catch up with the heart. The blood is pumping faster and faster as the anxiety rises up the back of my spine. A vein bulges near my temple then begins pulsating. My screams of fear are met with a mimic down the hall. Like two dogs howling in the night. One and then the other. Then simultaneously.
A friendly, almost comforting voice enters the room, but my mind can't remember who it belongs to. My eyes won't let me see who has come. I cannot touch them, or hold them close. They're there. I feel their breath on my neck. But I can't see, feel, or taste them. Is it someone I loved? Or a caretaker who loves me? "What am I doing?" I ask myself. I answer my own question. I'm having a heart attack. I'm dying. Or so I think... |