Vanilla Sky

Aug 24th, 2008
3:00 am

I just watched Vanilla Sky with a wonderful girl asleep in my arms. This is the kind of girl who makes you happy even when she's sleeping, sweet with her unconscious touch, aware of your mood, your comfort, your needs without opening an eye.

This is the first time I've written here about someone other than what I have deemed the current acceptable focus of my existence... the ramifications scare me, the audience is a part of my life, and their reactions, especially at this delicate time could unravel and undo everything I have hoped to accomplish... and I care, I care very much if that happens... it could destroy me.

This girl, a wonderful girl. Do I love her? I don't know. It doesn't matter.

I respect her. I find her fascinating and odd, open to things again like some others I have had the pleasure of meeting these days, but this one has no ability to fake the knowledge or understanding of the reality under realities, hidden by the careful mind, and yet she displays it so elegantly.

I imagine her to be alien, from a planet not too distant from that of my godfriend, not only in spirit and sense and empathy, but in physical being as well. These women, built long and strange, beautiful and haunting, strong and delicate, are not from this place. Devils, angels maybe, but not of this world.

I envy them. I am at most a hybrid, a giraffe, plagued by real world problems while trying to transcend the limits of human existence and the filters of acceptable perception. I feel lucky, honored, to have them touch my life, focus their energies upon me in such vigorous and flattering form. In some reality, I must be a tragically sensitive and self-deprecating penitent god, prone to bouts of self-induced amnesia and self-banishment to other planes of existence.

And they are here, tourists or saviors, employees or worshipers, mothers and sisters, fellow gods saving me in my delicate time on the brink of madness... I am with them and I know it can't exist, this reality. It is too perfect and too terrible all at once. Only when I am about to break do I find sudden salvation. Only when I am on the verge of contentment does the world fall apart. And with each cycle, the extremes, the limits are pushed further and further, coinciding with convenient physical plots and devices which can explain it all logically away.

She is laying behind me now... watching me, with eyes closed, breathing slow and mouth barely open... Perhaps I have stumbled on to a truth which she is here to prevent. Perhaps I will turn to find her open mouthed, fangs elongated, in mid-strike with the mission to save the rest of the cognitors in this reality from contemplating my uploaded thoughts. And then, maybe she is there to do nothing, nothing at all, to convince me yet again that such fantasy does not exist...

Or maybe she is here to guide me home, open my mind to re-find my immortality, possibly one of many with the shared purpose to bring me back.

But I am not ready. I have not exhausted this universe...

She flinched when I just wrote that...

And it's not true, and she knows it. I am tired, I do want to go home to that tragic and sad eternity. This one is difficult and senseless. But I also want to go on, maybe because I don't believe there is any alternative, maybe because I, as a perfectionist, must fix this place, or maybe... maybe because I found something I can't leave behind...

Missing pieces to myself are here on this plane. One I call little giraffe. I should explain, fellow giraffe...

Just before I began this entry, I wrote to her through Messenger:

"vanilla sky...
am i frozen?
are you dead?
life seems unreal without you"

Perhaps a bit trite and unfitting at the end of this entry, but they felt perfect 30 minutes ago.

Still, I know what they mean. They mean, "I love you." They mean, "I am afraid." They mean nothing that I could ever express in this English, an imperfect and overused language, where, if one were honest, one could never say "I love you" to different people because, though it could be completely true, it would never mean the same thing between any two different coupled souls...

But so I love, and I love, and I love... and so on... I play by the rules, my rules, the rules of respect and balance, discretion and sincerity. Even though I feel the emotion often, I am not irresponsible with these words. I save them for only the most exceptional of cases. I hold them like fire in my blood, and only when my veins are torn and hemorrhaging a red viscous steam do I allow myself to gently whisper the holy phrase...

"I love you..."

But for you, my little giraffe, my purpose, my reason, my anchor to this plane... you... you are one of my missing pieces... and, for you, these words could never be enough.

4:07 am

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