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BOB-Y-CAT
pale blue dot.
{i have had an idea for a short story. i have had it for some considerable time, and have thought about it since december, now, 2 years ago.}
it's about a sad boy who is at about 19 or 20. he wakes up from a dream- where in the last thing he saw, before the hot white flash of awakening, was a pale blue dot. he is sitting upright in his bed and cold sweating; is flored and feels anxious in not knowing why this dream arrests him with feelings of insignificance, lost hope, and loathing.
he goes for a stroll to get his mind out of the dream, and come back down to calm. on his walk through the billowing night fog and street lights he is driven to melancholy; unable to evade thoughts and memories of his former significant other. they take him to scenes in his life, where in he watches her lie to him, sneak behind him, and walk past him. he is confused at how who he loves could do such things. his somber thoughts meander through her, life, and the world. standing under a street light, its bright light drenching him, he wants to kill himself. he walks home.
coming from the bath room, having consumed a considerable amount of alcohol and sleeping pills while lain in a tub of water, he slumps into his warm bed. pulling the covers and comforter up and closer into him, he feels his conciousness loosing. his muscles conform into a fetal position, and his body is flighting with flashes of warmth. his eyes are sinking further into his head. tears dripping from them and onto his pillow.
as he falls asleep, the chemicals whispering lullabies to every cell which composed him, his eyes open. laying near, behind small cotton folds of white blanket, she sleeps content and lovingly clasped to his numb nimble hands. warm.
the bedroom listens to a faint gasp (the boy screams). his whole self, in this dying white light, crawls for life. and crawls for her. for the pale blue dot.
[the pale blue dot is a metaphor(or literal sight, at certain distance) for the world. it is an observation at how insignifficant we can feel looking at our lives and proportions next to mountains. next to planets. universes. the story intends to expose the danger in living life with this kind of perception- how seeing this way can take from us what we could instead be seeing; the clouds above us, the people around us, and the amount of truth in that.]
hope and how it colors
i need to keep it simple so that the thought doesn't lose me.
our perceptions of reality, and the reality of people, allow us to exist sane in the world we create for ourselves. when that illusion of what is real is broken, or when the genuineness of that existence is challenged, we drift further from resricting logic and reason.
matter becomes a conspiracy against what you know.
