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**Snugaroo** , Monday, 9th of August 2010 05:47:29 AM

Snugaroo , Monday, 9th of August 2010 05:47:29 AM

Ideas of an Idea

Part One: The Waiting

Snugaroo

/>here l am, wondering about my existence. like the days before. how many

Registered User

days have passed? l do not know for l can not remember how everything

Joined: Saturday, 29th of May 2010, 20:11:06

started. it feels like forever. perhaps forever has passed? why. that

Posts: 767

word. that word seems to be the only useful word here. why is the land

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white? where did the black marks came from? and what was that metal tower
doing over there? what is its purpose? what is MY purpose? and where did
everything come from?what created it?

Part Two:Theories/>
l remember. l remember. l think l remember. the day when the
tower was created. how it struck the lands. how the large gaping hole
around it was produced. and beyond that hole was another thing. a brown
compound. no. when l was close enough l learned that it was solid. it
seems to be similar to the outer grounds. the land beyond the lands. as
time passed before me every single moment my mind struggles to chase
forgotten thoughts. memories. and sometimes l remember. and sometimes it
slipped frommy grasp again. why.

Part Three: An Idea
/>l think. l think. l think all the time. for that is the only useful
thing to do. what created me. what created everything. what CREATED.
sometimes l look out at the sky. l saw parts of my memoriesrunning around.
those little brats. enjoying they're freedom. why can not l do that? why
can not l run away? just like my lost memories. my thoughts. thats okay.
for l will catch them later.

Part Four:Revelations
/>l caught one. l caught one of my memories. l can not believe it. the
feeling of self discovery. it feels like something is being attached to
me. the feeling. l like that feeling. it makes me feel good and powerful.
l remember. l remember. the tower used to be taller. l remember how it
collapsed. how its blood poured down the lands. and the tower locked the
lands. it prevented it from moving. pinning it down to the mysterious
brown solid. yes. now l remember. the black streaks. they came from the
tower. the tower made the lands dirty. and what about me? where did l come
from? where did the tower come from? these memories. they are good. l need
more.

Part Five: The Truth, Perhaps?

l caught a
bunch of memories now. after struggling for what seems like forever, l
hope these memories are worth it. now...i await my pleasant discovery. />a person. l see someone. what is he doing? the tower..i see the tower.
when it was in its glorious form! in..it was.. it was in his hands. what
was he doing with the tower. why was it small? small enough so that someoe
could hold it. more questions came up as they get answered. maybe they will
never stop? maybe my quest foris useless for l will never find any ? no. l
must not ponder about the others. l must concentrate on this. a cannot
afford to lose my memories again. i've gone to far...

Part 6:
A Purpose

as l delve deeper into the depths of my
mind..floating in the black void in my mind. the black void was there each
time l think of something. there l gain an audience with my memories,
viewing what they have in store. the person l saw just now. he seems
frustrated. l can feel it. l understand him. i, too, was frustrated. but
not anymore, for l have my . that person..what was he doing? why was the
tower in his hands? how did it get small. maybe the tower was not small at
all? maybe the person was the one who was big. as new questions came up as
l answer them, newcome up as im answering them. l see.. it is balanced.
the person..seemed unbalanced.. what was he doing? drawing? drawing...on a
piece of paper.. a white sheet of paper. perhaps that was the land.
and..who is on the piece of paper?

as l concentrated harder and
harder....

i learned that the person on the paper was me. />
was the person drawing me? was that how l was created? am i...a
figment of his imagination? was l in HIS black void? am l in it right now?
so many ...so many questions...they just...come up. ideas an theories
pouring out of my mind. the mind. is a blessing and a curse. l need to use
it to escape it. why was everything balanced?

Part Seven: Flaws
of Symmetry

the person was trying to create. a burden that all
artists take. the person was an artist. he was failing. his desired
masterpiece was impossible to create. his anger got the better of him. the
artist struck his desk with the tower. no..not a tower. an instrument that
was used to create. a pen. fueled with its ink, and fused with an artists
imagination, it could create anything. by the powerful minds of artists.
struggling to produce, to CREATE. a form of expression of life, released
from the mind, produced by an instrument. this...was ART. in the middle of
my creation the paper was struck by the pen, lodging itself into the table.
pouring its blood on the paper. carrying the failed plans of the artist.
the life it was supposed to
life it was supposed to held. the pen
was pulled out, leaving its metal tip. the ink stained the artists hands.
the artist and the creation was fused, for there is no such thing as a
failed creation. NO such thing as a crude drawing. it was too late.
i....was created.

the artist was the god of this divining
universe. l remember. l remember it all.

but what happened to
the artist? maybe the ink has worn off. maybe he was not god anymore. he
abandoned us all.maybe he is busy with more complex and marvelous designs.
and im left here alone in the white lands....lost in the time that was
supposed to exist.

i....i am a figment of someones
imagination.

an idea/>___________________________________________________________

i
experienced one of my outbursts when im drawing. l always do that. the
burden of the artist is to capture. but my hands are slippery. l was
inspired by that.

this story reflects the secrets of the mind,
its mysteries, and the unimaginable possibilities of what it can produce.
and the depression all artists have. trying to create. maybe OUR artist
failed to create us. we were gifted with flaws. lost in something that was
planned to happen. now our artist keeps creating more and more in this
endless canvas. the universe. who knows what might exist out there. maybe
more artists...i THINK

who knows..a man can dream.... a man can
DREAM

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