Even in a James Bond book, can you come across a quote that can make you think, and reveals some truth.
-Casino Royale by Ian Flemming
July 30, 2014
July 29, 2014
Silly thoughts
She watched the van with much suspicion. It was a hazy summer day, not so hot with a slight wind chill. A perfect day to be out on bike, and as she picked a spot to sit, she kept her eyes on the van. Her childish fear present in her mind. Watching too many action suspense thrillers made her always question vans parked outside. She always feared a white one would pull up and take her away. Silly girl she thought, she was a silly girl with silly thoughts. She smiled to herself, as a rumbling could be heard overhead. The train was passing on the overpass. A few bikes passed by on the lane, she heard children laughing as they played. People laying out on the grass, cars driving by, men fishing whatever they can find in the river. This is what she needed, a moment to enjoy simple everyday things, including the creepy van.
July 27, 2014
Tranquility
When you realize you're not just sharing a moment with the people you are with, but with nature itself. That it looks at you, as you look at it. A connection is made and you both can share the same space and enjoy the tranquility together. Even in this vast concrete jungle, where I witnessed 4 lives change drastically today, you can make a simple connection with a living thing and watch how it adapted to the same crazy world you live in.
July 26, 2014
at this moment
July 24, 2014
pedal, pedal, coast...
Lately I have found myself in a dark void of not being able to express myself. I get frustrated and distant and i just want to push away. I want to use a wall to give myself a force to just push off in another direction but as I let myself go, I crash into another wall, and make no progress. I have ideas but when I share they are just ridiculed and ignored. And I found myself making a contemplation that I know will only bury me more than I am already. I'm already suffocating and instead of gasping for air I'm holding myself down, face first under water, and the bubbles are slowing down.
I haven't been able to write anything decent in weeks. Been coughing and losing my voice. Been avoiding the foods that make me sick and yet my skin still feels like its on fire. I lay in bed looking at my ceiling, looking for cracks and imperfections. Daymares have become common when i take naps, and at night my dreams are either empty voids or vivid twisted images of places I've never seen in person, but the familiarity leaves me awake with curiosity and fear. I've been reading so many books, and been listening to so much music, but I feel like I've lost all inspiration.
Until tonight.
I felt the wind in my hair, as I pedaled through the streets by my home. My first night, trying something new. I knew what awaited me at home, the anger and disappointment, but for that brief moment I just pushed that voice to the side. I felt it build up as my anxiety reach its ultimate point, my inner voice yelling to stop, and slow down, but I couldn't listen. As the cars passed my side, I kept going pedaling and pedaling. Coasting down to the empty streets where I can claim it as my own, not having to share with no other vehicles. I wanted to feel something, even if it was just my heart racing in my chest. And as I turned into my block, I felt a smirk force its way onto my face and I genuinely felt free...
and was able to write this tonight.
I haven't been able to write anything decent in weeks. Been coughing and losing my voice. Been avoiding the foods that make me sick and yet my skin still feels like its on fire. I lay in bed looking at my ceiling, looking for cracks and imperfections. Daymares have become common when i take naps, and at night my dreams are either empty voids or vivid twisted images of places I've never seen in person, but the familiarity leaves me awake with curiosity and fear. I've been reading so many books, and been listening to so much music, but I feel like I've lost all inspiration.
Until tonight.
I felt the wind in my hair, as I pedaled through the streets by my home. My first night, trying something new. I knew what awaited me at home, the anger and disappointment, but for that brief moment I just pushed that voice to the side. I felt it build up as my anxiety reach its ultimate point, my inner voice yelling to stop, and slow down, but I couldn't listen. As the cars passed my side, I kept going pedaling and pedaling. Coasting down to the empty streets where I can claim it as my own, not having to share with no other vehicles. I wanted to feel something, even if it was just my heart racing in my chest. And as I turned into my block, I felt a smirk force its way onto my face and I genuinely felt free...
and was able to write this tonight.
July 21, 2014
May 14, 2014
The Two-Celled Mind of H. Quinzel
The doctor sat quietly alone in her office. Windows shut, blinds down, the only light was coming from the lamp on her desk. Looking paper after paper she placed the file on top of the pile on her desk. She sighed took off her glasses and in a trance like state got lost in her thought process. It was a case she was very familiar with, one she has followed for years. She dedicated her life to such a case, making it her companion. But as always it didn't make sense to her, no matter the amount of times she went over each file, she couldn't get over one fact.
It was inevitable.
The craziness was always there, so should she say madness. From the family records to personal notes found, it was present waiting for that push, and she knew exactly what brought it out. Only one person could push another to a brink of insanity.
Him.
The smile, the laugh boosted his charm, and his sob stories could win anyone in the weakest state of mind. The manipulation, the doctor knew, drove the patient to a point of madness, but she also knew that it gave the patient something she never felt before.
Love.
The patient wanted to be loved, she wanted to know another human being cared for her. Sadly he didn't love her, that was clear to anyone with a straight clear mind. It was a fact that many have brought to the patients attention. She was just something he needed. To play with when bored, or even better to bail him out when he was finally caught and beaten by justice. The doctor knew of the day it all finally went down, when the patient gave in and became his pawn in his quest for chaos. Shaking that thought, she put on her glasses she decided to take a walk.
She made her way to the other end of the room and stared into a cell. Her patient sat on the floor, back towards her. A small blonde figure slouched playing with a deck of cards never letting go of her favorite one. The doctor looked closely at what filled the dark cell. A family picture of him with their pets, newspaper clippings with his name on the headlines, and on the nightstand an item the doctor knew meant he was around. A small vase with a single rose in it, with a note, that from far away one could not make out what it said, but the doctor knew who it was from.
She noticed the movement from the cell, as the patient looked up from what she was doing and turned slightly to face her visitor. A moment they both have shared plenty of times before. While at first the doctor would flinch at the sight before her, she has become accustomed to what her patient looked like. Black smudged makeup around her eyes, red markings on her lips, stretched to her cheeks to cover the scars that now stood there. The doctor knew she would paint a huge smile on her face to match her loves glasglow grin, but one day the patient stopped finding things funny.
That day, she thought she made a breakthrough. What pushed her to stop laughing? Why did she finally want to end it and leave? The doctor wondered what changed, but knew it was never going to happen, for once the patient stopped smiling, he took care of it. Leaving her with a scar so she's always laughing. And that's how she was found, smiling and laughing, and brought into her cell, with the pain in her eyes and smile to counter it.
Fixing her glasses, the doctor looked at the figure before her. At that moment they both made eye contact. Green eyes on matching green eyes. Both were slender fit figures with blonde hair, one in pigtails the other in a tight bun. Both women looked and knew the other very well, because they were mirror images of each other. One reminding the other of who she was and who she is now. A remembrance of consequences of gaining something that was never there.
At that moment, the lights of both the cell and office went on, both women looked up and back at each other, they both knew what it meant. Thinking time was over, it was time for the real her to wake up. The sound of hyenas whining for food were heard in the distance, followed by an all too familiar growling laughter. The laughter they both fell for.
The patient went back to her cards, and doctor back to her desk. She knew at the moment she lost, and the balance of power had gone to the broken figure she shared the mind with. All she was now was a memory left to go through the files in a mind lost from being saved.
It was inevitable.
The craziness was always there, so should she say madness. From the family records to personal notes found, it was present waiting for that push, and she knew exactly what brought it out. Only one person could push another to a brink of insanity.
Him.
The smile, the laugh boosted his charm, and his sob stories could win anyone in the weakest state of mind. The manipulation, the doctor knew, drove the patient to a point of madness, but she also knew that it gave the patient something she never felt before.
Love.
The patient wanted to be loved, she wanted to know another human being cared for her. Sadly he didn't love her, that was clear to anyone with a straight clear mind. It was a fact that many have brought to the patients attention. She was just something he needed. To play with when bored, or even better to bail him out when he was finally caught and beaten by justice. The doctor knew of the day it all finally went down, when the patient gave in and became his pawn in his quest for chaos. Shaking that thought, she put on her glasses she decided to take a walk.
She made her way to the other end of the room and stared into a cell. Her patient sat on the floor, back towards her. A small blonde figure slouched playing with a deck of cards never letting go of her favorite one. The doctor looked closely at what filled the dark cell. A family picture of him with their pets, newspaper clippings with his name on the headlines, and on the nightstand an item the doctor knew meant he was around. A small vase with a single rose in it, with a note, that from far away one could not make out what it said, but the doctor knew who it was from.
She noticed the movement from the cell, as the patient looked up from what she was doing and turned slightly to face her visitor. A moment they both have shared plenty of times before. While at first the doctor would flinch at the sight before her, she has become accustomed to what her patient looked like. Black smudged makeup around her eyes, red markings on her lips, stretched to her cheeks to cover the scars that now stood there. The doctor knew she would paint a huge smile on her face to match her loves glasglow grin, but one day the patient stopped finding things funny.
That day, she thought she made a breakthrough. What pushed her to stop laughing? Why did she finally want to end it and leave? The doctor wondered what changed, but knew it was never going to happen, for once the patient stopped smiling, he took care of it. Leaving her with a scar so she's always laughing. And that's how she was found, smiling and laughing, and brought into her cell, with the pain in her eyes and smile to counter it.
Fixing her glasses, the doctor looked at the figure before her. At that moment they both made eye contact. Green eyes on matching green eyes. Both were slender fit figures with blonde hair, one in pigtails the other in a tight bun. Both women looked and knew the other very well, because they were mirror images of each other. One reminding the other of who she was and who she is now. A remembrance of consequences of gaining something that was never there.
At that moment, the lights of both the cell and office went on, both women looked up and back at each other, they both knew what it meant. Thinking time was over, it was time for the real her to wake up. The sound of hyenas whining for food were heard in the distance, followed by an all too familiar growling laughter. The laughter they both fell for.
The patient went back to her cards, and doctor back to her desk. She knew at the moment she lost, and the balance of power had gone to the broken figure she shared the mind with. All she was now was a memory left to go through the files in a mind lost from being saved.
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