Sunday, 20 November 2011


I check my email all the time.
I never have anything.
I do not know why people are reading this.
I only write this for myself.

Two hundred "views."

Maybe they think this is fiction.

Or maybe that I am mad.

It is not, and I am not.


I could be mad.

Saying I am not is something only a mad person would say.

This is all real to me.

The thought that this is a dream is dismissed by the fact
I feel so much pain.
Every cut,
every scrape,
every broken bone.

This is real.

Salome tells me that I must do something.
A task.
She tells me that by the time I know what it is.
I will have failed it.

Schrödinger's cat.

Why does it feel appropriate?

Do you know why, Mercedes, Mystery or Lucas?

Do you?

1 comment:

  1. Schrodinger's cat is this idea that if you have a cat in a box. And put two bowls of food down, one poisoned and one with normal cat food.

    Then until you open the box, you cannot tell if it is dead or alive.

    Meaning it is both.

    I'm not sure if that helps or not, but I hope it does.

    Best wishes,