astronaut ambition

epiphany

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Sun Jul 23 00 / 2:42 AM

How do I start telling myself about a moment that seemed to encompass the end of it all?

Well, it went like this;

Gilbert and I went camping this weekend. For posterity: Sharbot Lake National Park, out near Perth. Small, green, quiet.

The camp was a moment out of its own time. It was too regular not to be unusual. It was the little place that those in the know go for postcard perfection, but I'd fallen upon it accidentally and didn't have the proper experience for it. Everything looked normal, but I was seeing it through a delusion. Everything sounded normal, but I could only hear the whir of my own musings.

We built a good fire and toasted with gin. I was able to indulge my inebriated grabby tendencies and not care about respect or performance. Gilbert turned philosopher, I turned confessor; we indulged in new roles and in old hidden ones. Do you like pain? Do you like your life? I feel alive. I feel dead.

After the fire had burned out and the community turned in, I brought us to the beach. Small but clean, secluded but close. I had been breathing at the stars all night and it was finally time for us to meet.

I lay on the end of a clean cement dock and simply looked straight ahead. In an instant, I was alone, but it was more than that; I didn't even feel that I was there. The stars were everywhere above and beyond, before my eyes and behind. The Milky Way was visible. The lake was flat and black and the stars were reflected in the water. I stood on the end of the dock and looked down.

I was looking into space, I was looking into nothing. I felt I knew what an astronaut felt to look down and see no earth. I felt I knew what it was like to look into the meaninglessness of time. I felt I knew what a suicide felt to look into a black tunnel and want to see the end. I felt I was dying and it was exhilarating. I felt I was dead and it was good. I felt afraid to live because it would never be better.

With hair spread outwards like an Ophelia, with sexual assurance setting me free, with alcoholic confidence; existence was perfect for a two-hour spread, and I cried.

</>

Lisa Higgs

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*epiphany*
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latest archive about email links yearbook japan photoblog wish list	Sun Jul 23 00 / 2:42 AM How do I start telling myself about a moment that seemed to encompass the end of it all? Well, it went like this; Gilbert and I went camping this weekend. For posterity: Sharbot Lake National Park, out near Perth. Small, green, quiet. The camp was a moment out of its own time. It was too regular not to be unusual. It was the little place that those in the know go for postcard perfection, but I'd fallen upon it accidentally and didn't have the proper experience for it. Everything looked normal, but I was seeing it through a delusion. Everything sounded normal, but I could only hear the whir of my own musings. We built a good fire and toasted with gin. I was able to indulge my inebriated grabby tendencies and not care about respect or performance. Gilbert turned philosopher, I turned confessor; we indulged in new roles and in old hidden ones. Do you like pain? Do you like your life? I feel alive. I feel dead. After the fire had burned out and the community turned in, I brought us to the beach. Small but clean, secluded but close. I had been breathing at the stars all night and it was finally time for us to meet. I lay on the end of a clean cement dock and simply looked straight ahead. In an instant, I was alone, but it was more than that; I didn't even feel that I was there. The stars were everywhere above and beyond, before my eyes and behind. The Milky Way was visible. The lake was flat and black and the stars were reflected in the water. I stood on the end of the dock and looked down. I was looking into space, I was looking into nothing. I felt I knew what an astronaut felt to look down and see no earth. I felt I knew what it was like to look into the meaninglessness of time. I felt I knew what a suicide felt to look into a black tunnel and want to see the end. I felt I was dying and it was exhilarating. I felt I was dead and it was good. I felt afraid to live because it would never be better. With hair spread outwards like an Ophelia, with sexual assurance setting me free, with alcoholic confidence; existence was perfect for a two-hour spread, and I cried.
	</>
Lisa Higgs
.