hazard 27 (defunct) › floor › view

almost real (13/05/2004)

        I remember how my sister would scream out of a nightmare and how there would be no one there to comfort her. And if it wasn't a scream, it was a loss of breath, a gasp for air. Get out of bed and sit down on the floor. Her hands would always be cleansed with tears. Was it okay to just watch? I couldn't sleep because I was afraid to dream. She calmed down and looked toward my sleeping bag. I closed my eyes, never knowing whether she knew I was awake or not. And then she woke me up and we stared at each other. Nothing was said until morning, until breakfast.
        "Just because it feels like you're thinking doesn't mean you're actually in a process of thought."
        "Why do you say that?"
        "You once told me that you think about me."
        She stared at the dust reflecting sunlight, floating in the air. Her eyes would somehow give off an aura of a troubled person, semi-filled with tears. Silence gave off the feel that time was moving faster. The clouds fooled me into thinking that it was almost already evening, as the dust disappeared with the sunlight. Within blinks, everything was almost the same again.
        "Do you know who you are?"
        "No, I only know who I want to be."
        "And who do you want to be?"
        "What you think of me."
        She looked at either outside of the window, or at the reflection that the window gave. A deep sigh. Maybe the window itself?
        "What do you think of me?"
        "I'm not sure if I think at all."

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