Idea for a short story – Life itself

 Tosha (@Tosha)8 years ago

Hi! I’ve been feeling really down lately, and I haven’t been able to sleep. So one night i decided to start writing. It’s just a first draft, so responses would be much obliged.

FIRST DRAFT:

I woke up to the sound of water dripping down from high up. The smell of roses and jasmine strung my nostrils and filled my body with a sensation of happiness. As I was enjoying the smells, I found myself lying on a wooden floor, cold as winter in the big city, and with a stomach that could eat a whole herd of buffalos, and then some. My thoughts were a mix of different feelings and emotions, all ground up in a pile of uncertainty, yet a vague form of hope. But not once was I able to express anything at all of any matter. Not anything at all. I had the answers to the world, the key to the chest of mysterious that is life. But some how they remained trapped in the vessel I call my head.
I didn’t have the slightest idea of where I was, or how I got here. All I knew was that it was time to get a serious move on. After gathering some strength I finally got up and started to familiarize myself with the place. It was an old apartment in Brooklyn, with pipes hanging from the ceiling and brick walls covering every corner. Old vintage Playboy magazines covered the whole of the south wall, and opposite to the fine ladies showing off on the wall, was a womanly figure trapped in a wooden frame. Even though I was too far away to even see anything, I felt a strong emotion I hadn’t felt in a long time. Curiosity.
See, I’d been diagnosed with something the doctors like to call Alexithymia. “The inability to modulate emotions.” But not every emotion, that is. I’m able to feel, but I am not able to act upon my feelings, if you catch my drift. Personally I think it’s all bollocks and it’s just an excuse for all the drugs I’ve taken in my life. Truth be told, my mind had been altered and damaged for good when a friend of mine, at least I thought he was my friend, dosed me with the beautiful substance called LSD. Overdosed that is. It might not sound all too frightening to you, but if you’ve tripped before you know how scary it can be. See, LSD is beautiful and creative, but like anything in the world, even water, if you take too much, you’re gonna have a bad time. That is why I am what I am today. A mild form of schizophrenia you might call it. I call it special. I am special. Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes:
I made my way across the room, and her face, getting closer and closer, slowly revealing more of that innocent, yet seductive look, appeared to be even more lovely than I expected. My heart was beating so fast I though it was going to jump out of my chest and run away. There, in front of my eyes, was a portrait of a young woman, with golden-blonde hair, eyes as blue as the ocean, and lips as red and as beautiful as the sunrise over Rome.

September 3, 2013 at 8:06 am

I like the idea and seems like you are off to a good start!

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