UPDATE: Uploaded to another portfolio (I'm organising my things, separating my works more closely connected to things not under my alias)
You live alone. But, at the same time, you are also constantly in the presence of your loved ones. How is this possible?
First, you still are being sheltered under your parents’ roof, enjoying their company. You’re also not the type who coops up in your room for much of your day. But still, you live alone. If not your home where you physically spend most of your life, where do you live? The answer is easy.
Where you live is in your mind.
From how I see it, your imagination is like a web. One thought connects to another, which may be connected to multiple, and this spreads out into an infinite network of ideas. Everything that you know is there. Everything that you make up is also there. Everything that you like, everything that you dislike, everything that you are indifferent to…Your memories, the things that you’ve thought you’ve forgotten, the things you didn’t know you knew… everything is there. The imagination is a web, and you… You are its fly.
There are so many of those like you. Creatives (which you are one of), scientists – including mathematicians – (which you aren’t), and philosophers (which you also aren’t), for instance. These are the people who are nearly always up in their minds, producing ideas like machines, or simply reflecting on their creations. When they aren’t, they are either too engrossed in a specific part of the world, or not thinking of much at all. Like yours, their own minds are their home.
And like a home, you can compare the mind to a house, as well. Its entrances and exits are the mouth and the hands. Ideas shared through spoken word, text and images. Its windows are your eyes and ears, your view of the outside world, where you gather most of your influences and inspiration. The living room is the most active and least private of them all. Your lounging and entertainment belong here. Therefore, this is where you watch your ideas come and go, the ideas shared to whomever you invite to listen. The kitchen and dining is where you’re most productive. You always have a purpose for being here. Here is where new ideas are created. Then, at the table where we dedicate to consuming – often what is produced from the kitchen – this would be where you reflect on your creations. The bath and toilet is where you get rid of any waste or dirt from your body. This is where everything you’ve forgotten goes. Now, the bedroom is the most private space in your house. It is also the place where you are most vulnerable - where you sleep. Your thoughts and ideas that compile into who you are go here. Your most private thoughts go here, too. And finally, the shed, where all your hidden memories are stored away, only to be remembered when sensing a certain trigger.
Like a snail, you take this house everywhere you go.
At age ten, in school, you were confronted by a teacher of yours. I remember you being asked something along the lines of, "You're telling me that you have spent these past twenty-five minutes doing nothing?!"
Now, what happened here? What went through your mind? What were you doing? Why were you doing what you were doing? Did you know what you were supposed to do instead of doing what you were doing? Why did it take twenty-five minutes for that teacher to notice? Did you know that you were doing nothing? Did you know you were wasting time? Did you care that you were wasting time?
If I remember correctly, you weren’t really doing nothing. You weren’t really doing just nothing. I think you were also playing with your pencil because that was something you found some kind of entertainment in. I’m sure you knew you were supposed to be doing something else, but you didn’t really know what to do – or cared to ask – so that’s what you instinctively did. Although… Twenty-five minutes is a long time for playing with a pencil, so I’ll assume you were daydreaming, as well. (That being how long it took for your teacher to notice is none of my business.)
When you think about all those questions, you could ask many of those same ones about yourself today. Since ten, to fourteen, to eighteen, to twenty-two… You may as well have stayed the same after all these years. Perhaps you’re immortal? Seriously speaking, being immortal is something I think you would actually like. Imagine being alive forever? Imagine endless time to do what you want? Ignoring the psychological and emotional consequences, immortality is the perfect living condition for those who spend a lot of their days lazing around, and also for those who create art – the two defining aspects of your person. Sadly, no one can daydream forever. Not even you.
Everyone daydreams, everyone gets lost in thought. But many are also responsible enough to be able to control how often they get caught in their own imaginations. Some are unable to even control it. Where do you fit? In my opinion, I think you fall somewhere in between. Surely, you can control yourself, right? You’re just a little lazier than most, from what I can tell. You spend so much time up in your head, thinking about the things that make you happy, that sometimes it leads you to do bad things, or really, leads you to avoid anything good. Sometimes you are so forgetful that if I were to ask anyone that knew you, they would encourage you to set alarms for your mealtimes, water, and preparing for bed. Sometimes your feelings of hunger and thirst can fade as easily as channelling out a clock’s ticking. The most annoying of all are tasks such as going to take a bathroom break or falling asleep.
You seem so far away from these easier important things in life. You know these things are hardly sacrifices to make and that there are consequences to not doing them. Like most good people do, everyone should learn from their mistakes. But, you don’t. Why? Maybe you don’t really remember these important things. Maybe you’re selfish and you just don’t care. Or maybe you just need to get better at some things – many, many things. All it takes is just a little effort.
It’s about time you stepped outside.
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