the_bashar (the_bashar) wrote,

unfamiliar ceiling

You have to understand, I live in a world where I have trouble proving that I, myself, exist, constantly wondering if I am just a well developed figment of imagination(which may very well be a faltering statement) and some other mind controls this pen that I call my own. Descartes made it look so easy, that I can't just accept but I am not deep enough to look for myself. I know no words to express describe hide my own feeling. Language is my archnemisis.
So how can you expect me to believe that you are real? Can you prove to me that you are even there? that you have substance spirit soul? Damn that evil genius for the doubt that (he/she)has sown will haunt me. Was that the plan all along?
Plagued though I am by thoughts of my own existence, I feel no desire burn need to prove to you that I ever am or was here. Proof for my own mind soul brings comfort, for others--indifference(and spelling errors). No monument could satisfy me, just an answer to a question that I must die to find and, unfortunately, can not share with you(am I even sure I ever asked the question?)
Though you need not fret, for while I ask, I do not require proof of your existence. Rudeness prompted me to ask such an unsightly thing of you. I apologize and by that, you will let it pass at face value. I shall take you and hear and listen, and though I am curious I shall not ask, for what went through your head when I asked of you the impossible. I ponder this more than I ponder your number(one shows me your mind, the other your body). You think it daft, or even, mad? that I come to the club to contemplate existence. But I find the energy sound desperation rather relaxing in a world of calm that drives me crazy.
Chaos is comfort. Peace is unnerving.
besides, philosophy is better that politics or religion, though to e honest my philosophy is encircled by my faith and both are built on my history, what I am told is our history, human history. Like everyone else who wants to sound unique important new I claim ancientness in my belief(and deny every other claim to antiquity)
So, I sit here with a drink wishing begging dying for some paper. While the music plays I think of everything and nothing and I feel small and large and just a tad tipsy. And--you know you are rather cute--I never expected you to come over and talk to me. I really like that, forward women are attractive. Pity you walked off, scared away by a poorly worded philosophical query. And I wont come after you, you already think me strange, best not let you know that I am desperate. Come back, and sit here with me and ramble, let us see how often our thoughts cross paths. For your company I will gladly buy you drinks, but I am just a tad to pore to do much more. Just know that when I ask about the pink flamingos that decorate my ward that I am not mad, simply nerdy.
So I am sorry that I asked you to prove yourself, and yet offer no evidence of my own existence. Maybe I would be better off in a book store or some coffee shop looking for some quite little nerdy girl. But they never come to me and a coward never asks them. So I sit here in this club waiting to make you stop and say "wait...what?", and I wonder if you will sit to help me look for an answer(to a question that I am not even sure I asked).
If by chance you find that answer before I do(it always seeks out they who do not look) would you mind coming by and explaining it to me?
If you do, please use small words.
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