If my mind is a place, I’d tell you not to go there

Just something I wrote when I was sixteen.

If my mind was place, I’d tell you not to go there. You wouldn’t like what you see. What would you see there? Sarcasm, bad things, dark thoughts, cynicism, pessimism, demons I couldn’t kill, all the negative things you can imagine.

But, like all places, my mind has its nice parts, too. Those parts where there are music, words, colors, pictures and people. Yet compared to the dark parts, the nice parts are microscopic. Like the dark night that has some stars dotting it.

After I tell you all this, would you still like to know me? Would you still like to, if not go, get a glimpse of what kind of a place my mind is like? And if you do, would you accept me? Or would you run for the hills? Are you prepared to face the dark to see those microscopic dots of light?

If my mind was a place, it’d be a landfill. Scraps of what people don’t want and don’t need anymore. Full of people’s trash. Stinky and full of flies, rotting things, torn clothes, broken things, shattered glass. Full of waste. Full of shit.

But, like in all landfills, you can find beautiful things in trash. Some of the most beautiful things a person can have come from scraps and broken things. There are scraps that could be recycled; broken things that could be repaired and made functional again.

After I tell you all this, would you still like to know me? Would you still explore the landfill that was my mind? Would you find scraps and broken things to repair and fix? Or would you leave them, let them rot, leave them broken?

If my mind was a place, it’d be an asylum. Insane. Time doesn’t exist. A place where you don’t know what is real. A place where a Higher Being exists, but is still invisible. A place where people are placed when they are chased by demons; demons they couldn’t kill, they couldn’t face. A place where everything is almost an illusion. A place where beds can go on fire; where you can hear disembodied voices. A place where you can escape reality—but the catch is, you can never look back.

After I tell you all this, would you still like to know me? Would you help me escape the asylum that I created? Would you help me chase and kill the demons I couldn’t face? Or would you leave me there, unable to save myself?

Please, help me.

Save me.

 

(April 13, 2013)

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s