Since she lived in the future before it became her present she was bored of it by the time it came. It came beforehand. She lived in her ideals. Her ideals slowly became reality. And reality was the past for she was already moving on from it. She grasped as far forward as she could. Always trying to disperse the cords that held her, she sought for boundlessness.

She glanced at the clouds before turning back to the words in the dictionary that she had written down to remember for study. She noted that there is no such thing as overcoming a desire. There is always something being done which is a desire materialized. She would not do anything she did not want to do. Even if she did not want to do it in one sense, the over-encompassing desire to do it would result in an action.

She did not like thinking about doing things she did not like. She rather immerse herself in thoughts of her desires. What she DID want. What do I want? Nothing came to mind. It was something she had to create. To create ideals, the highest heights of perfection to be had, and moved on from, time and again. It was good that things were always being replaced, were impermanent, for if things did not change, she'd be bored.

As she listened to Feist's old songs, she heard a child playing in the night which was unusual. But she heard a red wheeled wagon going across the pavement. Her thoughts moved on from it. Suddenly a great tune, better than the others, came streaming into her ears from Feist. She felt elated. She was already tired of her journal's notes on the dictionary and came back to her Room.

Several hours later, she found she had stayed up all night and throughout the early morning so that at three in the morning she sprayed Poppy perfume numberless times and already it subsided by sunrise. The sunlight was shining through her curtains now, and she opened the windows. She hated the sunlight but tried to think positive thoughts about it. The sun was a beautiful object that made many shades in the sunrise and sunset, but it was the daylight that was so harsh as to blind her. Could she say she liked being blinded? No, there was nothing she enjoyed about sunburn, or not having sunglasses so that her vision became blurred. The best she could do was move on from the subject but she didn't want to. Not without overcoming the challenge.

Although these things were true, maybe if she diminished the negatives by avoiding them she could stay indoors and dream about how the sunlight was beautiful. Wasn't it the sun's light that made the reflection of light upon that moon that she so loved? But lamplight is better, she said. I like artificial light from mankind. That kind of light I have power over. Enough with sunlight. It is one of those things she could not win over or overcome right now.

She moved on to the reality of her room once more. A whole day had passed with her playing videogames, eating, taking a shower, and work. But these things were ordinary and not as special as the thoughts she held dear in her mind, and heart, which she sometimes acted upon. So she moved on from those thoughts about her ordinary day and enjoyed the night that came upon her once more. The wind blew through the windows and her lamplight reigned the night. And suddenly she missed the daylight. Not having to pay a big electricity bill is one of the good things about that harsh daylight. And it is something to be missed when it rains. Why did positive thoughts about sunlight now come to mind once she already gave up on them? It seemed she was never happy with what was in her present but what she was without. But it wasn't always true.

Feist once more played a joyous tune, one of romance, that made her want to be with her boyfriend. She met him in highschool and it took them a while to be together because she was eloping with a college professor at the time when he liked her. But after she broke up with her teacher she moved on to be with him. And they lived happily together since then. But that was several years ago.

Now she was older, and he died in the war, but she still had his medal amongst the trophees he had earned in school where he was first acquainted with her. Time slipped past so quickly. She moved onto be with a couple of rich men. One was an art collector who was like batman in his scope of self-made wealth. And the other was a socialite who went to ivy league school who got money through his family's trustfund.

In her retirement, she looked back at all the fun she has had throughout her lifetime. It was all as if it were a fantasy. It was dream-like. It was as if it all did not happen. As if her history was some book she was reading that suddenly ended. Some felt more real than others, but nonetheless it was all real. It happened. And it is in her memories mixed with her own real fantasies. She wondered about the future whether she will lose her mind and not be able to perceive a difference between the line of reality and the one of fiction. Experience happens in the mind either way.

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Tag der Veröffentlichung: 19.07.2011

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