For the doves.

I promised them I'd draw them, but really, I can't seem to draw anything that I don't ruin with swirls and mesh. Some would call that art, but I disagree. It is nothing but a few mangled patterns pretending to be art. They're cheating. I breed cheatart.
It can look pretty to you, inspire you and feed you emotions just by looking at it, but it is fooling you. I breed cheatart. It's not an image you should waste your time with, my talent does not lay on a canvas.

So, I considered writing of them, because I guess they deserved something, so I wouldn't have entirely broken a promise. I dislike doing that so. But then I realized, what can I say about a few pretty doves grazing in the sun beneath an enchanting tree? Not all too much, and why would I bother? It's hardly original and hardly important. I'm forgetting what is important everytime I stray from the path, i.e getting distracted by a few attractive birds.

I've come to the conclusion I look funny. People won't stop staring. It's as if I have done something wrong and they all know. Or like they're all getting ready to leap at me and tear out my throat. Like that movie, Dark Corners, where the character 'Karen' is on the bus, with the demon-people who won't stop staring. A world where you are entirely alone because you can not trust a single person and no one believes your tale. It's horrifying.

Even worse when you don't know your own tale. What happened before, and where do I go from here? It's so hard to get a message across when you completely forgot what the hell it is. But you are the messenger and your only purpose is to deliver that message, then get the hell out of there before you get shot. You're not doing your job, son.

It's okay though, because you should have enough time. I plan on leaving fairly soon, but I can't until this stupid tugging fucks off and finds someone else to disturb. Why me? I am incompetent for this job. I can't understand anything. Why are there people walking across the road? What kind of relationship do I have going on with these people? Do I have headache, or am I just making one up because I miss them? Why is that building that colour?

And I know it may seem absurd, but it all goes by and I take no action because I'm not really there. It's just some movie I'm watching. "What, are you speaking to me? How? You're in the screen! Wait, you're not? So I'm a part of this film? Did I just ruin it? Where's the guy calling 'cut'? Oh, wait, you're a part of real life! Right? Aren't you? Why are you looking at me like that? It's a simple question."

Constantly trying so hard to understand something, anything at all. Maybe that's why I like simple things. A ring, a glowstick, a handful of carkeys... Yes, I am naming a selection of my collection from my very first time on acid. Currently, I'm enjoying the company a little staff gives, twirling it and passing it from hand to hand. I'm no good at it, but damn, it is fascinating. I can focus my entire self upon it and block everything else out and I don't have to try and understand everyone and everything. I just have to block it all out.

I'm not too aware of what I am writing or for what purpose, I just had the urge, and I think it looks pretty, the way the paragraphs are split, all of a similar length, and words look so beautiful just leaking out of nowhere on to something. I could type for hours, about nothing, but I know it isn't important. I know it's nothing you can read and learn from, if I'm even capable of teaching anyone anything, and I know it's not much to correct and guide on. I know it is nothing, but damn has it felt sure like something.

I guess in times like these, when everything I ever imagined in my childhood is coming to life, when all the dreams of Time are emerging from the dark and entering the light... I need to find a way to express it. And I don't even remember anything I wrote above, but maybe I let something slip that will help you understand, help somebody get the fucking message I have been trying to send out. It is important, whether I am or not, and for fuck's sake, I need to remember what the hell it is I'm supposed to say!

But, I'm getting angry now and I've been trying to 'cut down' on angry rants. So I take that as a time to stop writing, though I really don't want to... It looks so fucking pretty. But I will, and I'll go smoke a delcious cigarette on a park bench and watch doves... And I'll think of what to do for them.