kuroi namida

I think it was Friday when G mentioned her prophetic dream. She asked if I had ever had a prophetic dream. I said I didn't think so, considering how ridiculous my dreams tend to be. Other than being rejected at Stanford -- and even that one was filled with surreal incidents that never occurred -- I don't think anything I've ever dreamt became a reality. Rather, my dreams are prophetic in the way that they will never happen.

When I woke up Friday morning, I felt good. I couldn't remember what happened in the first dream; I could only remember who was in it, but I knew something good had happened. The second was one of those recurring dreams I have fairly often -- any dream analyst would say it's some unfinished business I've never taken care of, but I already know that I will probably never take care of it in the end.

As it turns out, I had an epiphany that day. Contrary to whatever the dream may have predicted, it was not a pleasant awakening. It wasn't even as if something outrageous had happened. It's something that has happened over a hundred times, but for some reason it meant more that day than it ever did before.

I have spent some time thinking, and I have decided I am going to take a break from writing on this blog. There are many reasons that have led me to this decision. The first is a practical reason -- even now, I still receive reviews for EP asking when I am going to update. Recently, I read Stephen King's On Writing and realized that all I am really doing is burying my head in the sand because I don't want to face the numerous problems with EP. But after reading the last review I received (from Essie), it occurred to me that there are others who are still in love with it even though I have nearly left it for dead. Somehow, I feel as if I cannot let those people down. Until I update EP, I will not update this blog.

The other reason it entirely selfish. Hello Mr. Salt. This is Open Wound. Have you two met before?

Damn it, I want the godforsaken wound to heal. I don't want to prod and poke anymore. I have overanalyzed everything to death. What I realized on Friday opened my eyes. Look, you silly thing. You overanalyze ever single mindless gesture into something enormous. And in the end, none of it ever meant anything. You've been rubbing salt into your wound for the last two years, maybe because you were hoping something beautiful arises from the pain. Alright, maybe it does. But I don't want to do this anymore.

I'm done.