Tag Archives: alternate reality

Use Me

“Yes, but I think I enjoy being used.”

You know you’re being used. You’re being chewed up and eventually it’s going to burn and crash. The audible exemplification of cold reality. His words fit.

She knew. She knew, and she didn’t care.

Use me.

Use me as your receptacle for your aches and pains, leave your insecurities at my feet, find refuge in my attentions and affections. Let me love you for everything that you are, for your imperfections and pieces of you that you never let people see. Use my love until you find no more use for it. Until someone else fills the void in your soul better. Until you are bored with me. Until you have a newer and shinier plaything. Better yet, mix and match me with your other favorite playthings. I am yours alone until you will not have me.

Then, throw me away.

Why do I find comfort in this paradigm, she wondered.

Perhaps the answer lies in the security of knowing. Knowing that eventually things will end. The tumultuous waiting game; the mind bending torture of waiting for the floor to fall away beneath your feet be damned.

That moment. 

In the meantime one can take comfort in knowing an exact purpose: to be used. Security in simplicity. Serenity in certainty.

Use me.

It is easier to give love when you know precisely what one plans to do with it upon receipt. It is easier to give love when you explicitly understand that you will get nothing out of it. It is easier to give love when you know to distrust whatever is given back in return – it is a farce, a laughable attempt to shield you from the truth. It is easier to give love when you know there is nothing particularly special about your love.

She didn’t trust anyone who could pretend otherwise, as though anyone would ever plan to stay.

Because there is no question of future.

It is all inevitable. It is just a matter of time. The floor disappears. The walls melt away. You feel your stomach knotting and the world spins around you in darkness.

Until suddenly, someone new takes your hand. They need you. The spinning stops. The world begins to make sense again as you begin to invest yourself once more.

You put your head down and rebuild the walls, fixing a shelter. You find your footing as you lead them to their next path.

And you wait.

Because that moment is just one whim away.

Social Experiments

“I am my own social experiment.”

The words lingered in the space between mind and virtual existence, clinging to the form of identity and malleable intent, before dancing into the small text box on the glowing window that glimpsed into an alternate reality.

The sentinel blinked persistently, standing steadily next to the last mark, awaiting further instructions. None came.

To observe, to identify, to consume. Breathing in the essence and meaning of interaction. To wonder, to theorize, to consider every possible interpretation.

The balancing act of conscious and subconscious desire. The internal struggle to hide reality and emit something appropriate for public consumption.  The time honored battle between intense fear of betrayal and a profound desperation to be loved.

And so I watch.

I watch, I poke, I prod. I disappear. I become a fly on the wall. I stand in the spotlight. I hide in the shadows. I dance to see if others will dance. I lead to see if they will follow. I follow to see if they will lead.

Her thoughts floated into the air and journeyed to wherever such thoughts go once they have been released from captivity.

Suppressed self-expression scratching at solid walls of supposition and self-denied satisfaction. All for the dread of the unknown, the fear of failure, the horror of naked exposure, the terror that life may be entirely senseless.

Perception impregnates reality.