LADYBIRD

Fiction has got to be personalized, or wait maybe I need to rephrase that. One can dream, but he’d still be himself when he dreams, which means that although a dream can be a dream it cannot be someone else’s, like that of someone other than yourself. In other words, I can dream situations that I never have been/will never be in, but what I should/will never forget is to dream it the way I do (although this could slightly sound like I’m making ‘dream’ a little more tangible than it actually is, I really am not but merely inducing a certain physicality which I believe to be allowed when coming to a realm of sub-conscious control) and experience what needs to be felt from inside my own virtual skin. This could be my justification or explanation for fiction, and the fact that writers get away even with contradicting themselves on paper.

“This isn’t a free world at all, however bestial a life we’re allowed to live; however far we’re allowed to stray, it’s not like the jungle is ours man… This society is a fucking zoo, and just because we’re in a really big cage, or on an infinite leash, we shouldn’t assume ourselves to be born free to live free, should we?”

It’s one of the weirdest experiences (or so I’ve felt) having to read myself and I’m not referring to the ‘recent past’ when I say this, it’s more like the version of mine that could not even exist right now (considering the two intermediate years) or which could have evolved, upgraded or maybe even grown contradictory, which means that I could either hate or laugh at what I had written because what I penned was what I was and that means laughing at myself for what I’ve been, and it’s certainly not a very scary thought considering it’s what moves life ahead in the first place, this acceptance of evolution, of change. I’m talking about ‘Ladybird’ here, the girl from my ‘delusional clarity’ paradigm and this isn’t a recent thought, by the way, it’s been chugging along for a little bit and I’ve probably been thinking of rewriting her for the past couple of months and I sort of found myself held stalemate by myself and the last couple of days have probably given me reason enough to bring her back, you know, hit the road with her again because I ironically find myself right where I left last time, except that the world’s spun around for a year more and I’ve spun with it too, which means that my ‘Ladybird’ would smell something pretty different this time around, perhaps musk aroma on deo-spray (that’s a shot in the dark, though, I hardly know what those two smell like).

Always wanted to be a magician, you know, one struggling for shows, shabby clothes and fancy tricks and all that. And this time around, there’s the intention to make the girl more empowering than the selfishness I showed last time around, a slight motive to unite causes and definitely look at a different climax, which in itself would be better than the previous one, considering one can’t get lower than that.

At this point of time, I sincerely hope I do justice to it.