Insanity Story (Part 1 of 3)
This is a story that is broken up in parts, that i will eventually submit to Mirage, but i was wondering what some of you think if it. 3 parts, if you read it, i would really like some feedback
Why is life the way it is? If we cannot perceive what those around us are seeing or thinking than how do we know if any of what we see or think of exists? It is simple to think that one is interacting with the world around him so therefore it is a reality. But what constitutes that thinking? What reason do we have that would prove that as a fact. We cannot see what others see, therefore we cannot prove that what we see is reality.
Those that take acid trips and see a “new and deeper world” can see a different reality and therefore can believe that what they see there is the reality. How can we be so sure of those that we consider “insane” to be truly insane? Insanity is what we call it when someone loses touch with reality, but if reality can vary because we never see what others see, than couldn’t they be sane and the rest of us insane?
Life is something that I try to hold onto. Like a watery gel that slips and slides through my fingers as I try to keep it. Sitting in my dimly-lit room, I sit in wonder at the world. The people around me, so lifelike and full of personality, yet why do I see them as such? If what I see is what I think of as my reality, why can I not control it? Wouldn’t I have the best girlfriends or peace or popularity in my reality? Why then can I not make it as such?
I rose from my chair and enter the hallway, still pondering about the world. The phone rings with a mind-numbing tone. As I reach for it, I notice that it is no longer ringing. Did I imagine it? No, I couldn’t have. Someone must’ve just dialed the wrong number. I came down the stairs on the way to the kitchen to grab a soda. Again the phone rang but stopped as I got close to it. The sound, almost fading away slowly.
I walk out onto the deck out back and light up a Cuban. The waft of smoke trailed around me as I blew into it and forming different shapes. The taste was exquisite. A feeling of wealth came over me with every puff. Just then I heard a noise, a rustle in a bush. I peered over the fence and there she was. The most beautiful girl I had known. Her short brown hair, gracefully bouncing with every step she took. She was of average height and weight and had beauty that could light up the city of Boston.
“Hello,” I called out, “Can I help you with something?”
“Oh, no. My dog just smelled something and dragged me over here. I hope you don’t mind”
“Haha, no I don’t mind. I just hope he looks out for the thorns in there,” a yelp came from the bushes, “Hmm, guess he got the message…” We both chucked for a minute as the dog and his wounded ego walked out from the bush.
“Oh, sorry. Where are my manners? The name’s Jeff,”
“Hi, my name’s Mandy. I’m new to the neighborhood,”
“Would you care for a drink? The gate’s open if you wish to join me,”
“Sure, I’ll be up there shortly. Lemme just put Brutus back in the house,”
As I waited for Mandy to return, I went inside to get some rum and cokes ready. I stepped back onto the deck only to find Mandy already sitting in one of the deck chairs smoking my Cuban.
“So tell me more about you’re trips to Cuba, Jeff,” Cuba? When the hell did I mention Cuba? How many drinks have we had?
“Oh, well I know a man that owns a cigar place down in Havana. I fly there every so often through Mexico. I don’t smoke that often, but when I do. I always make sure that it’s a grade A Cuban. Nothing finer in all the world…”
“Maybe a Cuban isn’t the only thing you would like to smoke tonight…”
I awoke suddenly, my pants gone with a mysterious brown-haired girl lying in bed next to me. I don’t know who she is or why she slept with me. Have I met this woman before? I got up to take my morning piss and returned to find that the mysterious woman was gone. No note. No sign of anything out of the ordinary. Did I imagine all this? Or did it really happen to me?
Why is life the way it is? If we cannot perceive what those around us are seeing or thinking than how do we know if any of what we see or think of exists? It is simple to think that one is interacting with the world around him so therefore it is a reality. But what constitutes that thinking? What reason do we have that would prove that as a fact. We cannot see what others see, therefore we cannot prove that what we see is reality.
Those that take acid trips and see a “new and deeper world” can see a different reality and therefore can believe that what they see there is the reality. How can we be so sure of those that we consider “insane” to be truly insane? Insanity is what we call it when someone loses touch with reality, but if reality can vary because we never see what others see, than couldn’t they be sane and the rest of us insane?
Life is something that I try to hold onto. Like a watery gel that slips and slides through my fingers as I try to keep it. Sitting in my dimly-lit room, I sit in wonder at the world. The people around me, so lifelike and full of personality, yet why do I see them as such? If what I see is what I think of as my reality, why can I not control it? Wouldn’t I have the best girlfriends or peace or popularity in my reality? Why then can I not make it as such?
I rose from my chair and enter the hallway, still pondering about the world. The phone rings with a mind-numbing tone. As I reach for it, I notice that it is no longer ringing. Did I imagine it? No, I couldn’t have. Someone must’ve just dialed the wrong number. I came down the stairs on the way to the kitchen to grab a soda. Again the phone rang but stopped as I got close to it. The sound, almost fading away slowly.
I walk out onto the deck out back and light up a Cuban. The waft of smoke trailed around me as I blew into it and forming different shapes. The taste was exquisite. A feeling of wealth came over me with every puff. Just then I heard a noise, a rustle in a bush. I peered over the fence and there she was. The most beautiful girl I had known. Her short brown hair, gracefully bouncing with every step she took. She was of average height and weight and had beauty that could light up the city of Boston.
“Hello,” I called out, “Can I help you with something?”
“Oh, no. My dog just smelled something and dragged me over here. I hope you don’t mind”
“Haha, no I don’t mind. I just hope he looks out for the thorns in there,” a yelp came from the bushes, “Hmm, guess he got the message…” We both chucked for a minute as the dog and his wounded ego walked out from the bush.
“Oh, sorry. Where are my manners? The name’s Jeff,”
“Hi, my name’s Mandy. I’m new to the neighborhood,”
“Would you care for a drink? The gate’s open if you wish to join me,”
“Sure, I’ll be up there shortly. Lemme just put Brutus back in the house,”
As I waited for Mandy to return, I went inside to get some rum and cokes ready. I stepped back onto the deck only to find Mandy already sitting in one of the deck chairs smoking my Cuban.
“So tell me more about you’re trips to Cuba, Jeff,” Cuba? When the hell did I mention Cuba? How many drinks have we had?
“Oh, well I know a man that owns a cigar place down in Havana. I fly there every so often through Mexico. I don’t smoke that often, but when I do. I always make sure that it’s a grade A Cuban. Nothing finer in all the world…”
“Maybe a Cuban isn’t the only thing you would like to smoke tonight…”
I awoke suddenly, my pants gone with a mysterious brown-haired girl lying in bed next to me. I don’t know who she is or why she slept with me. Have I met this woman before? I got up to take my morning piss and returned to find that the mysterious woman was gone. No note. No sign of anything out of the ordinary. Did I imagine all this? Or did it really happen to me?