sábado, 22 de setembro de 2012


Not a single thought as I circle around the tabs, one by one, before landing again on the first, hoping for something new, something exciting, something worth seeing. I refresh the page. Nothing. The same on the next one, nothing. And, oh, here's something funny - laugh, reblog. Pretend I laugh - always reblog. When the rush of excitement is gone, the cycle restarts.

Shit on Twitter, shit on Facebook, shit everywhere, why even bother? Oh, of course - there isn't anything left to do. Wait, there is. There is much to be done, lots of homework, study for exams, gym, feed the dog, iron that lovely dress, there's always something. Not that I bother - I really don't. What is it going on, then?, I ask myself once the Internet is down. There's a major storm outside. I feel like I'm losing a moment of importance. Something's happening online and I'm not able to see it. It feels awful. I feel annoyed.

Not that I'm addicted - I'm really not. It is common knowlodge that I can live without it, thank you very much, when there's anything more exciting going on in the living world. Well, a storm isn't exciting, it is rather inconvenient. So I stay here, conformed.

Why are people so simple-minded?, I ask as I try to reconnect the wifi. Not that I'm brilliant myself, but at least I know my way out of bad situations. It's something I've always been quite proud of. You know, being pratical and such. Okay, so it can't be that hard. Yes, put the damn laptop down and concentrate. Focus. What are you feeling?, I ask. Is it really me?

The sound of the words resonates at all corners of my brain. Its echo die after a few moments of pure shock. What were you thinking?, that strange voice asks again. Nothing, that's why. I was thinking about nothing, because there was nothing to be thought about. Blank mind. Scrolling around the tabs. Robot-alike. Mechanically laughing, unconsciously moving, eyes darting and rolling through words of unimportance and status on useless social networks. Numb. I feel numb, I answer that first question.

Why don't you quit it, then, if you hate it so much?, I ask surprisingly, suddenly awake. Well, it's difficult, I try to elaborate. It's all I know, you know. I mean, everyone I know, it's what they're doing. They're over there being shit, and I don't want to feel alone. It's not that I follow them, it's not like they're actually my friends - not in the literal sense, though, because indeed I follow them and am friends with them... virtually. It's just - I don't know. I don't know anyone else. That's why I'm still here, trying to understand what they're doing, like it's a scientific experiment, but slowly becoming like them. Oh, no. The thought strikes me hard. Not becoming like them, no, not that, not ever. Here's something I'd hate. Hard.

What is this interrogation even about?, I don't know who asks. What are you even rambling about?, both of us ask. I have no idea, the confused me answers sincerely.

I thought we were having this conversation because you were feeling numb, the reasonable me clarifies. I thought we were having this conversation because my Internet is down, the confused me says. Exactly, reason exclaims.

Why don't we talk more?, says reason. You're almost never home.
I'm always at home.
That's not what I was meant.
I know.
We hate it when we don't think, when we're not connected, part of a whole.
I know that too.
Then what's going on?
I don't know.
I can't.
I'm your mind.
You're not helping. You are supposed to be the smart one, not me, then get me out of this. I don't think I can handle it any longer.
This what?
This numbness. It makes me... not think.
So you admit you feel numb.
I never said otherwise.
And how does it feel?
Empty. You wouldn't know the feeling, for you are the the mightiest of them all.
Don't be ridiculous. Still, empty disgusts me. If that's how you feel, then I must rescue you from this nothingness, for you are part of me, even though a not very sensible one. Leave me room to think. Don't panic while I'm out.

Back. Got the solution, my dear. Rejoyce. I know exactly what you need. What both of us need. That one kick to bring us back in the game. The remedy - though not the bitter and nasty one - but that spoonful of sugar that makes the medicine go down. Swallow, now. Feeling better?
Yes, what was that?
An idea.
You planted an idea on me?
One you can hardly forget.
Why on earth would I forget it, anyway?
Because you're not awake. People often forget what they dream. Or divagate about. Seems ironic, don't you think? People remember silly things like catchy and stupid lyrics, but forget such important pieces of advice. They ignore it. Will you ignore me again?
I'll try not to. When did I go to sleep?
You're not actually sleeping. You are right now staring at the rain in the window, still feeling numb. Your body is there but the mind is here. It's already an improvement. Before it, your mind was nowhere to be found. You were, for all interpretations, lost.
That's right.
I'll do my best not to be again, I promise.
That's what we all hope.

Wet. My face is wet. I am not crying, but still it is quite literally raining in my face. I close the window. I check the connection. Down. I feel like I am missing a moment of great importance, but can't remember exactly what. Numb. I feel numb. For a second, there's nothing again.

But then, from the quiet waves of nothingness, I see something shiny floating in the water, coming at me. I grab it. It's a bottle and there's something written inside. It's big, it isn't a note. It's a book. A very good book. One of those I used to read when I used to care. I miss the old times, I think.

Somehow I get it out of the bottle and start reading it, just to remember how it felt like. It felt good. I feel like I need to thank someone for handing it to me. I don't know who. Maybe me, I suppose. Maybe I'm the one who brought it back, who threw it away in the first place, angry. Anyway, it's here now.

I snugle it close and sit down comfortably. This actually feels very good. Feels like... something. Not nothing. Nothing is quite bad. I pass through chapter one and it's wonderful. Chapter two is still amazing. But then there's something that is quite not letting me focus entirely, not letting me drown in the feeling the book's offering so kindly. Something that's making me think dreadful things, not focus. Not think. I keep reading it, words being read but no understood. There's something wrong and I can't tell what it is. I don't even notice it. I keep reading.

Not a single thought as I scroll through the pages, barely absorbing the story. Eyes darting around the paragraphs, hands mechanically holding the object in place. Fingers passing the pages around, one by one. Numb. I feel numb. 

I don't even know it.

Somewhere in the depths of my mind, a third voice is laughing maniacally at my disgrace.

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