mechanical

I have so much emotion by watching unemotion fighting emotion, that now I too feel completely devoid of it. I am mechanical, unfeeling outwardly, my eyes glued to the monitor, my face solidly ambiguous. You cannot trace the emotion on my face, because it does not exist. But my eyes… ahh… maybe you could soar into my feelings there. Perhaps you can look into my soul and see how frightened I am by destruction, unemotion, death.

And then I wonder if open diaries are a way to see into us. A beginning of a terrible end. Voluntary Big Brother. And yet I love it… we all do. It gives us a sense of freedom, not of thought-reading, emotion-reading. But think about it.

I don’t know how to explain what happens to anyone. Are you staying up? Yes. I can’t sleep right now. Why not? Because I am devoid of emotion while completely full of thoughts… emotions. But if you could only see my face, and feel my thoughts, and hear the voice that I hear of myself in my head… you would understand exactly what I mean.

Call it inspiration, or quirkiness, or… or maybe it’s that I try to maintain the voice of the book or movie as long as I can. Cling to it until I release every bit of creative juice that I can. Squeeze the pulp out of the new person I have become… until it wears away.