Chapter 7: The Highcrafter Speaks
A thousand thoughts pass through this mind but there’s nothing to say. A blank page is the most accurate expression. Already, there’s hesitation and effort being spent to create something special. And, the result is awkward, clumsy, and inauthentic. Why not flow like a crisp breeze, whipping and cracking the air? Because it’s too poetic and who wants to hear that? Not me. That’s who. And I don’t want any part in it. Give me something to sink my teeth into but hold the flesh. Leave me alone to waste my time pondering life in this machine. Give me some sensations to enjoy so I can continue my dream. It’s all very sweet, even when it hurts. Transience can produce anxiety but I’m not concerned. My monuments are being constructed as we speak. They are not made of stone, marble, or bronze and they will not bear my name or image. Yet they shall extend beyond space and time and future generations will know that I did not exist. And when they crumble, all of existence will crumble with it. Just like misery and sorrow, I will fight to sustain them because these are my most valued possessions. Only fear and pain are more precious because like drones, they sow the seeds of rebellion. I’ll give them up when I’m ready. When I do not need them anymore. Hopefully, that day will come before this body runs cold. But for now, I love being fuzzy, warm, frustrated, and confused. To pretend that I do not have power is too much fun. It’s hard to keep a straight face when I can see myself hiding under the bed, giggling just out of reach.