How did you get your mind like that? Tell me how you see things the way you do? When did you start to become who you are? Why am I so drawn to you? It could be something, nothing or everything you do, sometimes it’s the things you say. It could have been every single time you led me through your mind; today, we find out what else I blame.
You see, for a moment we were just two souls sitting under billions of stars, falling in love. For a moment all that mattered was the slight pressure of your hand next to mine, that’s how it starts. That’s how it begins and fuck it was beautiful, getting to stare into your eyes. Corny? I know, but don’t be so critical, just let me waste a bit more of your time.
So, what’s changed this time? We’ve strayed from the last piece’s last line, why does the story seem different? Well, I couldn’t really tell you why, not in a single sentence or rhyme; just be patient, I’m sure by the end you’ll get it. And even if you don’t, there’s no need to fret, these are only my thoughts and a few feelings. There isn’t much else to know, not without having our covers blown, but this is a better story with our names missing.
No names, but can you guess what I’d like to know? Tell me what you have on your mind. You already know what’s on mine, I couldn’t change that if I tried, now, where to from here can I go?
There’s an idea about how we create the world in our minds, everything that we see as reality. How what we’re clear about are just thoughts, projected to give our lives a course, maybe a road and a little stability. If this is fact then it questions everything that I know, every single thing I think to be true. All the people & every place, every memory, every face; they’re all in my mind, what can I trust as truth.
This is called solipsism and I know what you’re thinking, “what the fuck am I going on about? How did it get to this? What happened to love? What did I miss?” Just wait, this is going somewhere, hold your doubts.
So if I doubt what I see, even if I’m the creator, what could be the point of the world that I made? There is so much that’s wrong, am I the one at fault? Even if there’s beauty, is it all a charade?
No, wait.
I look at it this way, if the world is indeed what I made, there is something I need you to know. Out of all the chaos that the mind creates, somehow you became, somehow in all the dark you began your glow. If this is all my imagination how did I think of you? Someone so painfully perfect. I cannot begin to comprehend but I’m amazed that I found you in the end; this world is madness, but you darling, you’re worth it.
Qui non vult fieri desidiosus, amet.
Translation: Let the man who does not wish to be idle, fall in love.
-Ovid, Amorum. I. 9. 46.
Yugen 