All that jazz

Someone said to me the other day that I’m into fiction. It took me this long to realize what the person meant. The truth is everything I published here so far aside from answers to prompts and challenges are all based on true-to-life experience. In fact, I never edit stories; I simply tell them the way it happened. I might omit but never add or romanticized for the sake of wooing the readers; that is not my way of doing things, tell the plain hard truth and let the people decide if they are going to save or crucify you, that’s what I always tell myself. Take it or leave it.

I can understand though why some people think I’m making up things. My experiences seem far-fetched, out of this world, phantasmagoria; something that will never happen in real life, in normal life. I agree. But then again, they don’t have my life, and it’s anything except normal. I don’t have other people’s ‘ordinary’ life and experiences also. I don’t go to the bakery, buy bread and come home. It never happened to me that way. I rarely venture outside but once I set my foot out the door, adventures begin.

If I go shopping for food, kids follow me around in the supermarket, offering me candies or toys. Once there was this two-year old baby boy who kept offering me credit cards from the wallet of his mother while we’re standing at the counter. When I refused he offered me the wallet itself. When I declined, he took his feeding bottle and asked me to feed him. He even draped himself across my lap when I squatted down to talk to him, and showed me that he can tie his shoe laces all by himself. Things like that. 

Or the kid I encountered while walking in the city. He was with his friends. He saw me, we passed each other by and he began walking backwards as not to lose sight of me.

I’m sure everyone is familiar with this scene, where somebody on the bike slams against a lamp-post because he’s not paying attention where he’s going because he is looking at some girl. Well, it happened to me. Twice. Not only bikes, cars as well. And no, I don’t dress up slutty. I have pictures enough in my about page to give you  ideas how I clad myself in garments. Sometimes, I think there is something wrong with me, for people to react that way. Maybe they see something I don’t see. Rainbow coloured aura perhaps? Or dark, dark clouds hanging above my head? I believe it could be the first because children seem to like me. I don’t know, I’m only guessing.

Animals are nice to me as well. Especially wild ones we usually encountered while hiking.  Rabbits don’t run away from me, they sit and wait and let me take pictures. Some even posed graciously for me. Once we’re hiking in Germany and it was already dark, I was hurrying to reach the car before the sun completely disappears and I saw deer, raccoons and owls watching us. They came peeping. Probably to see what we’re doing in their habitat so late. Pity that the time and condition were not ideal to take shots of them or otherwise…

Most of the things I experienced I never tell someone for the fear of being accused of exaggerating. Only D. who is almost constantly with me knows the real story. He becomes so much in tuned with what is happening around me that he notices them first before I become aware of it. Maybe because what is abnormal to other people is normal to me so I cease to take notice of them. For me, they are just perfectly normal occurrences in my daily existence. Nothing out of the ordinary…

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Argh!

Can’t sleep again. Thinking of Edgar Allan Poe. I love hearing Vincent Price narrating his works. Sometimes I wish that someone would bash me in the head so I lost consciousness. If I’m lucky I would die  and I don’t even have to answer to that when judgment time comes. If ever. If I am luckier still I will pass to nothingness without so much ado. That would be the ideal scenario. But no, I am here typing nonsensical ramblings. I commented somewhere that I am an OCD with a hint of ADHD, someone had liked it and I thought: what is there to like?

Reminds me of those statuses in facebook  where some people would say: my mother died today, or my cat or I don’t feel good I’m sick and lots of people like it makes you think of what’s going on in the minds of those people, are the lights out up there, Probably so or otherwise they would think before hitting the like button. But who still thinks lately, not so many people anymore I guess. Too little time too many things to do places to go statuses to like whatever.

What’s happening around in general makes me question the authenticity of everything including feelings. Do we really feel what we feel or we just think we do? Do we really like what we like or we’re doing it for the sake of God knows what. I think I have to bash myself in the head. If it does not make me sleep at least there is a chance that the act could rearrange the wiring in my brain so, I don’t have to think these wonderful thoughts I’m always having. That way I could probably sleep like normal people do…

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