A Livid and Lucid Dreamscape

It has been a week since the Box was opened.

For so long I have not felt the presence of another in such close proximity, have not experienced the tactile feedback that emanates from physical contact, have not had another human being so receptive of the attention that I am giving.

This is why people crave companionship, it makes you feel complete, like a manhole in your consciousness being filled in with just the right combination of cement and water.

It had not been easy, trying to shed the thoughts that have undoubtedly clouded my better vision and clearer judgment to wreak havoc with the bridge I had so painstakingly built to ferry the precious cargo across.

Indeed, thoughts are a wonderful thing, but at the opportune moment, thoughts can evolve into pointed missiles with the ability to completely remove resolve, conviction and determination.

Thankfully, this time, they became warm thoughts of tiny kittens frolicking in lush meadows slathered with expanses of green grass set against a picturesque backdrop of a bright and brilliant sun.

It has been a little too long, for I have forgotten the wondrous joys that reciprocity of liking entailed.

As I took your hand, you slowly pulled me closer.

As I stood stoically by your side, you gently placed your head upon my arm.

As I put my arm around your shoulders, you moved that bit closer.

As I placed my hand in yours, you grabbed my arm and held it close.

As we waited for the lights to change, you came close and held that moment until red turned to green.

Your tiny, seemingly-inconsequential actions translate into codexes of ancient knowledge that brought enlightenment and comfort to my battered soul.

Just for that, I am immensely grateful.

Even if this were but a hyper-realistic dream crafted by the most proficient of dreamcasters in the deepest reaches of my rarest REM cycle, I do not want to be awakened.

Ever.

Feed the fishes kids.

A New Chapter, A Fresh Start

In a cruel twist of irony, the latest chapter in a long-archived codex has opened up again in September, just like how it was first exposed to the blinding rays of the natural sun six years ago.

This time, it is different.

After more than four months of futile second-guessing and disparate chasing of phantom geese, Schrodinger's Box has finally been opened. Even if the process took me an excruciating hour, the key to the Box was inserted. Even if the locking cylinders took another three hours to cycle open, the lid eventually sprang up to reveal a tiny kitten covered in flaming red fur that looked at me with anticipatory eyes.

I picked it up, cradled the tiny creature in my arms, and walked towards the horizon.

16 September 2012.

That is the day she answered my question.

Even if our interests are worlds or even galaxies apart, we can agree to disagree, looking for alternatives to mutual sources of entertainment. Even if our characters and personalities are complete polar opposites, we can use that to our advantage to complete one another. Even if I have to compete against an extensive array of past experience, I am certain of my capability to steer us onto the correct path for the future.

I will not question your past, for I will be living in your present and perhaps creating your future.

All I ask for is your patience and acceptance in dealing with this kid who refuses to grow up, this narcissistic introvert who uses overly-flowery language in everyday conversation, this rigid and calculated geek who has a massive collection of toys and this lanky boy with an over-reactor in his cranium.

I don't need you to be a good girlfriend, I just need you to be my girlfriend.

Let us walk this path together, slowly but surely, and see where we end up.

It is only logical.

The Endless Struggle

Much like the history of warfare, the relationships I build with individuals of the opposite gender follow a frightening, cyclical pattern, of course with variations and derivations in between. Despite the structured, familiar course these progressive pathways take, I always end up as the defeated nation at the treaty table, the Nazis at Nuremberg, the Iraqis in the Persian Gulf.

I saw this coming, in fact, I engineered it to be so. Yet now, I find myself unable to cope with the rising consequences of my actions months earlier. If I didn't take the action I took months ago, history would have been written in a different, less eventful but also devoid of the inner torture that laces my daily existence.

As the battleship (the Spartan) that represents my emotional well-being traverses through the Great Battle of Side 2, it is taking sustained damage from both intrinsic and exterior forces. Internal strife threaten to break the will of the valiant crew, temporary held in check by a stoic captain who is uncertain how long his impassiveness will hold in the face of such overwhelming odds. Out in the chaotic expanses of Side 2, enemy warships and mobile units pepper the ship's shields with relentless cannon, machine gun and missile barrages, each successful hit bringing the battleship closer to annihilation. As the Spartan lists stubbornly to port in order to dodge a salvo of heat-seeking missiles, the bridge crew spot something far away that infuses them with the motivation to continue. However, a gigantic space fortress stands between the Spartan and that particular end-game.

Yet, the ship must push through, it has to get to its ultimate goal.

It has to open the one thing that will end this terrible war.

Schrodinger's Box.