keepsake

my ears prick up to the sounds of the wallowing wavelengths that permeate my headphones and wash away whatever fear and anxiety that lurk inside the whirlwind of my mind.

i'm writing this while sitting cross-legged on the hardwood floor of my room, tucked away in a a tiny corner, my laptop screen radiates a soft glow that creates a miniscule aura that consumes my face.

all i can think about is hell. i'm not visualizing the polar opposite of heaven and its surreal imagery of clouds, pearly gates, and zero-gravity euphoria. i don't seem to care for the varying degrees of blood red and immolation that are bathed in the molten magma tides and eternal damnation. the only concept of hell that i've carved out from my personal experiences is endless uncertainty. there was always been an underlying fear of uncertainty in all the situations that i'm presented with and i will not be afraid to admit that i will falter, i will succumb.

anxiety makes me worry makes me think of hell makes me think of what are the consequences of being indecisive and the negative repercussions that spawn from choosing the incorrect actions by following the signals that my heart relays to my brain.

there are some things that you will never know and will die knowing that the answer will never see the light of day, the words will never pass lips and will be forever locked behind those teeth.

i sit and attempt to define what significance a keepsake can be to myself and to the ones i love, in the dormant past, the uncertain past and the technicolor, surreal future. an intriciately weaved cotton belt adorned with a machine-pressed buckle, a molded plastic keychain, the meaningful recreations of what will probably never occur, created my chemicals and electrical pulses through my brain.

what percentage of what i perceive is real, and does the difference that remains always a reality?