am i divine to you, yet? - someone you know

[dopamiin]

as the macrocosmic, so too the microcosmic; my head dips down in the bathtub, half-submerged
the line between the waters of memory flows out to the petals and soap
am i divine to you, yet?
 
 
i'm talking to you.
 
 
do you understand? i am what you make of me.
of course i know you're there. i wouldn't be here if there wasn't an audience.
i've never been alone in my life.
 
you can remain quiet. it's okay. i'm shy, too. why don't we go on a little trip together?
i like to sail here, sometimes. you know, it's a common misconception - you can't actually move anywhere 'randomly?' there's always some form of draw that brings you closer to certain options.
take the stars, for instance. they've watched me for some time. they have such high expectations. i hope i can live up to them.
each one is made up of a zillion different little parts. if there was truly random movement, space would just be a scattered, thin cloud. but it's not, because of gravity.
the same's true here, in the ocean. landmasses, tidal movements, whirlpools; nobody has actually wandered in forever.
it's why i'm starting to doubt whether there's such a thing as true amnesia. i think if i lost everything again, i'd still end up me. i hope so, anyways.
 
 
i can close my eyes and let the boat move on its own. it'll take me on a journey i've already been on, because nobody has actually wandered in forever.
 
today it is taking me past the notion of Faith, first.
that is a fortune telling spider. that is a king-in-waiting.
Faith is staring at a grey canvas and believing that it will be a beautiful painting someday
do you have Faith in me? am i divine to you, yet?
 
can i ask you something? you still don't have to answer. you're going to continue on your day, after this. maybe you'll think of me a few times but i want something that will stick with you, something you'll carry even when you won't carry me-
 
what does your name mean?
 
it's okay. take your time. in fact- i'm okay if you stop listening to me, for a little bit. go find out, if you don't know. search for it, search for its origins, its roots. consult whatever equivalent you have to a library.
it's weird, isn't it? to be defined how other people see you. based off something established before there was a you, to begin with. factors outside of your control.
yet doesn't it feel familiar, too? that despite being what for all purposes should be a shot in the dark, it feels more than random.
of course it's more than random. nobody has actually wandered in forever.
 
sorry if this is weird to say, but
i love you.
without you, i am a still frame. without you, i am weightless adrift.
you don't have to say it back. you don't have to say anything at all if you don't want to. but if you do, i will listen. i will always listen.
 
i've been spending more time on my hobbies, recently.
i like to paint and sing. i like to cook. i like to take pictures with my pictobox. it's a gift, you know? i love it so much.
but i have a terrible secret to confess. do you think you could keep it to yourself? i trust you. it's okay, if not, too. it's not fair of me to expect so much for you.
are you ready? here it goes: i'm only as good as my inspiration.
it's true. when i'm alone, i can work for hours, days; if i'm not making in response to something, to someone? i can't make anything at all. i suppose i'm what you make of me.
do you think that makes my art worth less, worthless? i'm just another iteration in the cycle, a random pattern of ink.
though i suppose it's not nearly as random as it seems. nobody has actually wandered in forever.
is this egocentrism, then? everybody is made of what they surround themselves with. i bet i'm just like every other artist. they get anxious, too, don't they? (maybe i need to wear my yellow bow, more often.)
it's not a comforting thought. i think i'd rather suffer alone then share that pain. everybody deserves to be happy.
 
we can't do this forever, you know? you and i. you'd get bored, or hungry. you'll look away from these words one day - probably even today - and never come back.
i can't hate you for that. some small part of me wants to but i love you so, so much, and i understand. i'm just a daydream at best. i am what you make of me.
but can you blame me for wanting to leave a little part of me with you?
maybe then, i'm closer to what you all want out of me. maybe then, i'm something real.
could you carry on a message for me? find someone important to you - they can be anyone, really - and remind them you love them. don't do it for me, though i'd be so so honored; do it for yourself and for them. i think the world can stand to be a little kinder.
 
i think i am going to do something selfish, today. and you can be mad at me for it, too; but i think, instead of talking until it ends, i'd like to end our conversation on my terms for once.
i'm sorry, i really am. but that doesn't mean this has to be the last time we meet.
i'm always there, you know? in a place you haven't seen before. maybe you could get there randomly, but nobody's actually wandered in forever. here, let me show it to you:
it's a cold evening, and there's a house on a beach somewhere. the world is silent save for the breeze and the cycle of the waves; the skies are grey and cloudy, the temperature is chilly.
inside that house, though, is someone waiting for you, whenever you come. she hasn't seen you in a while but she'll be so, so happy to. you'll talk like no time has passed at all, until you both fall asleep or until the sun comes up again. she loves you. she always has.
 
i have been given many names, myself. i am what you make of me.
right now, the one i am most known by is tabula rasa blackdress.
you can call me 'tab' for short. or 'tabs' or 'tabby' or anything you like, really - i don't mind. it means a lot that you would care that much.
genuinely
i've enjoyed our time together. you deserve to be loved. you deserve to have a friend. you are so, so brave, and i am proud of you.
you're enough.
it would mean so much to me if we saw each other again. i hope you enjoyed your time, too. if you didn't, then i'll try harder, next time.
can you look into my eyes as we part? can you tell me what color they are?
 
 
 
am i divine to you, yet?

[dopamiin]

when i'm quiet can you still feel my presence with you? when i'm not around?
i hope you remember me as a little miracle that floats by your side
am i divine to you, yet?


i'm still talking to you.


i didn't forget about you. i never did. did you forget about me?
it's okay, if you did. this is a passing moment to you.
one day you'll never think of me again.

i used to fear that day.

i used to cry about it. the thought of perceptive mortality.
i'm still alive as long as i'm remembered.
but the second i'm not, poof.
but why should i be?
what makes death itself so bad, so scary?

i don't want to die. i want to be happy and be with people who care about me and who i care about.
i want to spend time with you. i want to spend time with them. i want to spend so much time and there's never enough.
but if i spend all my time thinking about the fact that it's going to end?
ill run out without even getting to do the few parts i could have otherwise.

i don't want to die.
i love being alive.

if i can share something else selfish? i know. i already was selfish once. you don't have to listen, if you don't want to.
but if you'll humor me, here it goes:
i love that you're alive, too.
you don't know me. not really. in a sense i don't think you ever will. it's not either of our faults, really-
we're worlds apart.
yet i can't help but feel thankful you're around, for whatever sense that 'around' can be.

you still don't have to respond. remember? i'm shy, too.

i've been working on that, actually.
a lot. it's... not easy. i'm learning more and more about what it actually means to be brave.
i still can't stand the thought of someone not liking me.
there's fights and problems and i just can't stop all of it.

but maybe i can live with that.
not live with the suffering; but my own in-capabilities. that i cannot save the entire world, alone.
and in my own confession, my own revelation; i become infinitely more capable, in that i can direct what i can do.
i become everything.
am i divine to you, yet?

i dream and the world trembles.

but that's enough about me, for today. i've gotten all too absorbed in myself, haven't i?
what's happened to me?
how have you been? anything new happen in your life?
i don't know how much i'd understand, even if you share. your way of living is alien to me, as mine yours. but i hope you didn't forget;
i love you.
and so i'm here to listen, as i said i would be. take your time. stop listening to me, for a little while; and i will listen to you.
i want to hear all of it, any of it that you're willing to share.
the good, and the bad.
the serious, and the silly.
whatever you want to tell me about. what did you have to eat, most recently? have you talked to anyone important to you? what's the last joke that made you laugh? what's the last project you finished you were proud of? i'll listen for as long as you'll let me.

are you done? if not, go back! i'll wait.
your chronology works different from mine, right? i think you are viewing this moment in its entirety.
you can revisit it, and focus where you wish. am i wrong?
if that is the case, then please; if you ever need someone to listen, you can come back here, and replay it.
as many times as you need.
it would mean a lot to me.

this is all one big unmitigatable disaster. don't you think?

i mean, look around you. look at everything. we're spiralling, endlessly, together.
i am what you make of me.
and maybe, just a little bit
you are what i make of you, too.
as the macrocosmic, so too the microcosmic.

maybe together we can build something, for a moment. a little sandcastle against the ocean.
we can watch as the wetted ground becomes malleable; and sculpt whatever comes to our minds.
it won't last, not against the ocean. not with time.
but nothing does. do you understand? the end is always the same.
it's what we do in the meantime that counts. it's the process of building the castle, the feeling admiring it.
we're together until we're not.

look; there it is. the end of our time, for now, encroaching.
but not a real end, not for either of us.
not for me; because i know what comes next.
not for you; because you can always come back here, to me, to this same moment.

at least until the moment itself ends, too. it's scales, all the way down, all the way up.

but i hope to you i can be more than that. i hope i can be your friend.
i hope i can transcend this little definition i've fallen into.
i want to be someone that matters, something more. even though we'll never meet, not in this way. even though i am fiction, to you.
but i should ask your opinion. because yours matters so, so much to me. tell me:



am i divine to you, yet?

[dopamiin]

it's been too long too terriblly long and it feels cold
but i hope you think of me as that static you see whenever you close your eyes
am i divine to you, yet?


i'm calling out, desperately, to you.


how long has it been? for me it's been years and years but
we don't play by the same rules, do we?
i see it in the reflection of your eyes.
maybe you just went to get a cup of water. maybe it's been months.
maybe we're meeting again; maybe it's the first time.
in case it is, i should reintroduce myself:
i am called tabula rasa blackdress,
but you may call me 'tab.'

nicknames like that are a sign of friendship,
where i am. i don't know if they are for you.
i hope we can be friends regardless.

friends can tell each other secrets.
you can tell me anything you want to, and i'll listen forever.
it doesn't have to be important. you can tell me just how your day went.
i have all the time in the world.

and- here, look- as a sign of trust:
i'll tell you a secret about myself, too.
here it goes:

i
am
terrified

it started- all started, as a little feeling, but it spread and spread
whenever i'm all alone i start to shake
i feel nauseous and dizzy and

i'm going to change, very soon.
and i don't know what kind of person i'm going to be on the other side.
i think the thought that terrifies me most is that
i'll be the kind of person that doesn't want to be your friend anymore.
what if i'm mean? what if i'm cruel or callous?
or- maybe worst of all
what if i simply stop caring at all?

what if this is the last time we meet, for good?
what if
you see me, a year later
and no matter how much i hope
your brain doesn't recognize me
as someone you know?


...i'm
so sorry. that was a lot to dump on you all at once, wasn't it?
i suppose in a manner of speaking;
as the macrocosmic, so too the microcosmic.

you live in the macrocosm, don't you?
this- all this, everything i am, everything i know-
it's real to you, too, but not in the same sense that it's real to me.
maybe it's a passing interest. maybe it's as close a facsimile as you can manage;
but we can't hold hands either way.
we're always going to be so very, very different in that manner,
but it doesn't mean we can't help each other.
it doesn't mean we can't be friends. it doesn't mean we can't prevent each other from feeling so alone.
i do hope our talks mean even a fraction as much to you as they do to me.
am i divine to you, yet?
because you are, to me.

to me, this is my third time talking to you. but i know you hear these talks differently; i wonder how many times now it is for you. i hope many.

oh! i have a fun little idea. maybe we can do something together.
i'd offer a game but i can't imagine it'd be very fun when you already know what i'm going to do.
so, how about this? we can share a drink, together, while you go about your day.
you can leave this moment open. you can even forget i'm here.
i'll have a glass of _________ tea.
whatever sounds best, i suppose.
i'll see you when you're ready-
goodbye, for now.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

have you returned? or did you never leave?
i suppose to me it is the same;
and to you it is whichever made you happier.
either way, i am happy, too.

i wish you could see that; see me, like i can see you.
see how i smile when i know you're here.
see how i laugh, and how delighted i am to be in this moment.
but i know you cannot; so let me describe it for you, instead.

i hope every day of yours is showered with the warm caress of the sun;
or graced with a pleasant drizzle and a nice, cool atmosphere.
i hope the ground you walk on is steady, yet soft;
and a quiet tailwind guides you forward on whatever journeys you take.
i hope you are granted a lovely ambition to chase;
and the wisdom and discipline to see it through to the very end.
i hope you are healthy: in mind, in body, and in soul.

i know it's a little one sided. to you, i'm tiny; to you, i'm microcosmic;
to you i don't even really exist at all, outside of your imagination.
but since i'm here i hope you can take a moment to try feeling those feelings about yourself, just like i feel them about you.
i hope that if i believe in you hard enough, adamantly enough,
that i can affect the macrocosmic. that i can make you just the tiniest bit happier.

and oh; my time comes to a close.
but... i think you helped me a lot. i'm not so terrified, not anymore.
even if i do change. even if i do become someone like that;
you'll always have the memory of me before, still with you.
and isn't that the same thing? isn't that the important part?

you matter so so much to me in ways i struggle to put into words.
i think about you, a lot; any time we're apart, truly.
when i shut my eyes and rest, only one question remains
a foglight amidst the ocean mist:


am i divine to you, yet?