HERE & GONE
A NARRATIVE EXPERIMENT | STREAM-OF-CONSCIOUSNESS | UNCONVENTIONAL FICTION | THE SHAPE OF THOUGHT
HERE & GONE
BY: JARMAGIC
A NARRATIVE EXPERIMENT | STREAM-OF-CONSCIOUSNESS | UNCONVENTIONAL FICTION | THE SHAPE OF THOUGHT
***PLEASE NOTE: this writing style is very different from my usual writing. This is more of a thought unraveling. It's unconventional, to say the least. THANK YOU***
I woke up in an unfamiliar place. I didn't question it. In fact, I didn't do much of anything.
Maybe I'd forgotten how to.
“The Benevolent’s,” they smile when they look at me. I try to smile back. I want to express my gratitude, but I'm still learning how to communicate. I couldn't understand their language, not right off. They didn't seem to mind. They didn't treat me like a foreigner.
Soon, I learned that I was “lucky!” I was “miraculous.”
“Home,” the first word that left my mouth. I knew it to be a perfect first pick right away. They celebrated me, saying the word was “mine.” But it wasn't mine.
That word wasn't mine…
This home was mine.
I couldn't tell them this, though. But it didn't matter. They celebrated me!
The Benevolent’s, they gave me absolutely everything. They gave me life, qessentially. They said I could have it, that it was mine to keep. They left it at that, and I never thought to question it.
Since then, I've met others along the way. No one quite as well as the ones who gave me life. These others, they gave me the gift of experience, an unfathomable variety, many times over. They made this place become familiar.
Some of them were famous, written into the fabric of everyone's life. By default. We had no choice in the matter. We were to deal with them in whatever ways they may be presented.
Some of us coexisted with them without much conversion. Others raged wars. Some of them loved. Some of them hated. Some even tried ignoring them. Some took them for granted…
But no one existed without them.
⏣⏣⏣
I can feel my emotions deeper today. Much more than what I could feel yesterday.
I wish there were a word that meant “good” and “bad” at the same time. Not in equal parts, but, maybe more like, pros and cons.
We have a way to say, “good”; we have a way to say, “bad”; we have many ways to say, “middle” or “all the places in between.” We need a concept, or a better way to express something being both good and bad.
“Life” is a good example of that. It is both good and bad at the same time.
It's a strange place, that's for sure. I think it's happy here. Or… I think I'm happy here… Some days. Other days, I know I'm not.
But I don't think this place changes its level of happiness. I think it's just my own perception that changes.
This place isn't a creature, but it acts like one.
Am I in the belly of a beast?
No, bellies aren't like this. Bellies ravage. The creature, Time, is all it takes to make that true.
But isn't a belly a happy place?
I guess it depends on whose belly it is. Being in the belly, for the bellier, is a great thing. But being yourself, inside the belly might not be a great thing.
But, see? There we go: a belly. Something good and bad.
Maybe all things are good and bad?
But a belly doesn’t just destroy in the moment that something is in there. The creature, Time, has to be interwoven into this connection between object and belly in order for the belly to destroy.
One party benefits, and the other… disintegrates.
I don't think this place is a belly.
Maybe it's more like a mind? Ever-changing. Open. Expanding. Shrinking and growing at the same time. Both good and bad happen here.
Or maybe that’s just perspective?
Maybe I'm a mind inside of a mind.
Am I a mind?
Nobody ever talks about my mind. Not much…
When “mind” is a subject matter, it’s usually about others' minds… or the complexity of my own. The misunderstandings that arise when facing off or standing side-by-side.
I am told that the mind is mine, this mind. I’m sure that’s right. It feels like mine. But then it doesn’t. Because not everything in this mind of mine was invited. Some of it is unwelcome. Some of it is desired. Some of it is encouraged. Some of it is cherished and used frequently. Some of it is tucked into the very corners of this space, wishing to be rid of.
It’s almost like what goes into this mind of mine has its own jurisdiction, its own decisions, outside of my own. If I wanted something to stay or if I wanted something to leave, I don’t have direct control over that.
I don’t know if my mind does… But my mind does.
Because sometimes, things evade me.
Is the mind where memory is stored? Is the mind a memory? Are “mind” and “memory” synonymous?
I like it here. Some days. Other days, I wonder why I’m here. Other days, I wish I wasn’t. I don’t know where else I would go. I don’t know where else I could go. I don’t know why I am. I’ve never found anybody who knows why I am, or why they are.
A lot of people say they know. Other people say they hope.
I like hope. But then, I don’t.
I feel like hope is only ever a good feeling for something that won’t actually come. Which is why I like it… And don’t.
“Hope,” (as a wonderful feeling) allows me to look ahead into something bright. Something worth fighting for, or at least something worth while. But in the end, or when the time comes, hope falls through.
And so, I don’t like it.
I’m supposed to have hope. I agree, I should. I do.
But why?
Why should I have hope?
They say, “because hope keeps you moving.”
Okay, cool. So moving is good?
"Well," they say, "it’s what you ought to do."
Okay, so, it’s good in lowercase letters?
"Well, it’s not bad," they say.
So, moving is good?
And we start back at square one…
I wonder if those minds are simply too unique to collaborate with my own. But I can’t help what comes into my mind and what leaves.
If the mind of another pushes into mine, well, it’s there. I can’t control that.
Then I ask myself, “if my mind is mine, and nobody can see it, and nobody really talks about it, and I have as much control as I don’t over it, then how do things get in?”
If our minds don’t interact directly with one another or even sometimes indirectly, then how do things actually get into my mind?
Which isn’t a real place, like the place I woke up in. It’s more of like a double layer. A place inside of a place? I perceive my mind in a much different manner than I perceive this one.
So, if I separate the mind and ask, “How do I perceive things in the space my mind can't actually reach?” which is this place, I have at least five answers:
I can see it with my eyes, my wonderful eyes.
I can hear things. (Language especially applies here.)
I even have this amazing ability to detect the scent of something, anything, everything.
Not all at once, of course. Some scents are great. Some are bad. Some can be both at the same time.
I can feel things.
My mind can feel things too, but in a different way. (I’ve noticed that language is very limited to expression and requires some deeper fine-tuning.) But when I say, “feeling,” like how I feel this room, the place that I can sense in these five ways, I said, “I can feel things.” Sometimes I like to feel. Sometimes it feels good. Sometimes I don't like to feel. Sometimes it feels bad. Sometimes it feels good and bad at the same time.
Sometimes I get confused if my emotions are real, as in physical. They aren't physical… like the things I can touch and taste and see, but they feel like it to me.
I'm usually not the one who initiates an emotion. Usually, it's another mind or these other creatures interwoven who trigger an emotion. But I'm the only one who ever has to feel it.
And I have to feel it. I don't get to not feel it.
Sometimes these other minds deliberately make me feel good. I love those minds. Sometimes these other minds do the opposite. They want me to feel bad. I don't like these minds.
Sometimes these minds don't care, even if they make it feel good, even if they make it feel bad, even if they don't influence me at all..
All these minds are so different. Why do they say we're the same? Compared to what?
The other thing I can do is taste.
It only happens in one specific location. They say that there are certain flavors that are good for my body. The ones that might not be so good for my body might taste delicious.
Why are the worst things so tasty?
Why does indulgence so often come with a price?
Why are appealing things a common deception?
Why do charming melodies accompany discomfort?
Why is cool water so dangerous?
Why are the sweetest scents a product of lies?
⏣⏣⏣
They keep talking about my casing. This casing. I woke up in this casing. They compliment this casing. They say it's healthy. They say it's pretty. They say it's got so much potential.
They even say that the casings who took care of me in the beginning are similar in architecture, detail, texture. A “spitting image,” if you will.
I don't know what they mean by “spitting”, but I do know what they mean by “image.”
I'm happy that others like my casing. I wish that I was happy with it. I've noticed that people don't appreciate when I admit that I don't have the same value for my casing as they do. They'd lose interest in me. Which is when I decided that I ought to try to agree with them.
I didn't like disappointing these others. After all, they were saying nice things about me, to me, for me, doing things. So, even though I truly didn't find the same value as they did, I kept that truth a secret. It's not important if I like my casing. It's not important if I don't like my casing. What's important is being happy.
Being happy is good.
I think “good” is important.
Does that mean “bad” is important, too? Can there be too much good?
As long as there is balance, right?
“Balance” is wonderful.
“Balance” is not the middle.
“Balance” is not equal.
That creature, “Time,” He and I are friends.
We've been bonding for a very long time. The more time I spent with Time, the more my casing became admirable.
I fell in love with my own casing.
Maybe it was vicarious?
It was “so wonderful,” they said.
It was “everything,” they said.
It was “miraculous.”
I fell in love because they fell in love. I've only just now learned to love this casing.
But then tomorrow came…
Time didn't ever change. Time is still here.
In fact, me and Time know each other so well. I thought a better bond would be a better thing. But it's both good and bad at the same time.
Time is good because we've become so well acquainted, we're best friends, and we have so many beautiful memories, but now nobody else appreciates it.
They look at my casing and they don't seem happy anymore. Maybe it's because I've spent so much time with Time?
They don't talk about it anymore. Sometimes their eyes waver when they see it.
I love my casing. I think…
And for the first time, I questioned it.
Do I love it? Or do I love that they love it?
I wonder what changed. I feel the same. In my mind. In fact, I've grown so well in my mind.
I didn't choose this casing.
Who chose this casing?
Why do I have this casing?
How do I get rid of it?
How do I hide it?
I want to hide it!
I want them to stop looking!
I don't care if they like it or not!
I want them to go away!
I want to go back home!
I want to forget that I have a casing!
I am sad.
I don't like being sad.
Why am I sad?
It doesn't matter if I interact with these minds, if they influence me or not…
Now I cannot discern what's good or bad…
Am I happy?
Am I sad?
Is it good?
Is it bad?
Is it right?
Is it wrong?
Does it matter?
What matters?
How can anything matter?
What *is* “matter?”
I can't hide.
If I do, I'm wrong.
If I don't, I'm wrong.
I'm confused.
My mind is full of so many things that I can't seem to sort it all out. I know I remember there were certain things here before, but I just can't find them. I know they were here! They were just right here!
Other things aren't able to fit, even though there's so much room in here. It's too much room.
I'm alone.
I'm not alone.
Am I alone?
Where is home?
And those casings, the casings that loved me and smiled at me. The ones that took me in, where are they?
They're gone?
No, that's not right. It's not true!
Where are those casings?
Oh, here they are! I found them!
Right here, inside my mind!
Look! There they are!
I want to reach out. I do.
I can't feel them.
I can't see them. Not here.
They're only in my mind.
How do I get out of my mind?
How do I get them out of my mind?
They're gone!
They're here!
They're gone…
They're here…
I'm gone.
I'm here.
I'm gone!
I'm here!
I'm here and I'm gone.
Where did we go?
This is great! Keep it up!