Post by Rip on Jun 22, 2007 16:09:08 GMT -5
I was starting to think I was crazy… seeing those lights just by the corner of my eye. But, then again, who am I to say I’m the only one. After all… we all have a reflection in a mirror; we all look back at ourselves in the water. The shapes trailing behind us, as we walks aren’t quite our imaginations, now are they? Who am I to think I’m crazy just for admitting what I see, instead of passing it off as a trick of the sun or our eyes playing us for the fool. If anything, the rest of them are the crazy ones; they’re the ones stuck in denial. Our society isn’t quite open to such outlandish ideas- like the ones in my head, and the people will do anything to keep the regular social normal in tact… even deny their own thoughts, they’re own understanding of what they see with their own eyes. Of course, I don’t expect any of them to really understand, even if they pursue the same thing. It’s not really something most people want to understand. It’s not really something anyone should want to understand. Curiosity killed the cat for a reason… ironically; it’s also a cat that grabs for something that’s not there. Or, at least, that we cannot see and therefore label it as nothing.
Why do we jump when our reflections appear unexpectedly? Are we not familiar enough with ourselves to recognize who we are? Why do we talk to ourselves when no one else is around? Aren’t we familiar enough to know what we’ll say in response? Don’t we already know what we’ll decide to do? Perhaps we don’t know ourselves as well as we think. Or, perhaps, we only understand half of what, who we are. If so, who is the other half, who so secretly co-exists along side us? Who is that person, staring back at me from the oily puddle in the gutter? Do their expressions really match my own? I once heard that we never really see what we, ourselves, honestly look like. Mirrors, you see, distort the image, so they reflect back something different then what’s there. They say the human eye is different, that we can see ‘real’ with them rather then the mirrors. But, if we never know what we really are, how can we tell if the image is distorted or not? How do we know if the reflections are any less real then what we see with our eyes?
Who is the ghost, then, I wonder. Is it the face in reflection? Is it the light in the corner of my eye? Is it the whisper in my ear? The shadow imitating all my movements? Is it the damned space my body takes up?
Or…
Am I the unlucky one? Am I the one trapped in a strange place that only half exists? Maybe I’m not crazy… maybe it’s not even curiosity driving me to find out. Maybe it’s jealousy.
Maybe it’s just the life of a doppelganger. If Nothing has a life at all.
----
A spontanous explosion in my head likely caused by my sister playing Kingdom Hearts 2 in the livingroom. It's a pretty cheesy game, but the beginning of it was oddly touching and reminded me of dopplegangers. I never really concidered something used so darkly in various works to have this kinda side to them, but it makes sense. I always really liked the idea of having a split side to everything (not for myself, but as a symbolic tool, I guess); I dunno, it facinates me. As for mirrors, I'm interested by them and scared of them at the same time (which is mostly my own fault, since I tend to draw/sculpt/whatever things coming out of them).
A short monologue by 'Nemo', who's apparently someone's ghostly double and doesn't want to admit it. I'll probably go back and add more meat later.
Why do we jump when our reflections appear unexpectedly? Are we not familiar enough with ourselves to recognize who we are? Why do we talk to ourselves when no one else is around? Aren’t we familiar enough to know what we’ll say in response? Don’t we already know what we’ll decide to do? Perhaps we don’t know ourselves as well as we think. Or, perhaps, we only understand half of what, who we are. If so, who is the other half, who so secretly co-exists along side us? Who is that person, staring back at me from the oily puddle in the gutter? Do their expressions really match my own? I once heard that we never really see what we, ourselves, honestly look like. Mirrors, you see, distort the image, so they reflect back something different then what’s there. They say the human eye is different, that we can see ‘real’ with them rather then the mirrors. But, if we never know what we really are, how can we tell if the image is distorted or not? How do we know if the reflections are any less real then what we see with our eyes?
Who is the ghost, then, I wonder. Is it the face in reflection? Is it the light in the corner of my eye? Is it the whisper in my ear? The shadow imitating all my movements? Is it the damned space my body takes up?
Or…
Am I the unlucky one? Am I the one trapped in a strange place that only half exists? Maybe I’m not crazy… maybe it’s not even curiosity driving me to find out. Maybe it’s jealousy.
Maybe it’s just the life of a doppelganger. If Nothing has a life at all.
----
A spontanous explosion in my head likely caused by my sister playing Kingdom Hearts 2 in the livingroom. It's a pretty cheesy game, but the beginning of it was oddly touching and reminded me of dopplegangers. I never really concidered something used so darkly in various works to have this kinda side to them, but it makes sense. I always really liked the idea of having a split side to everything (not for myself, but as a symbolic tool, I guess); I dunno, it facinates me. As for mirrors, I'm interested by them and scared of them at the same time (which is mostly my own fault, since I tend to draw/sculpt/whatever things coming out of them).
A short monologue by 'Nemo', who's apparently someone's ghostly double and doesn't want to admit it. I'll probably go back and add more meat later.
