I am free from the constructs of my mind, which have always been there to choke out the real ideas and opinions floating inside. Synapses fire one by one connecting the right and the left, thoughts form, theorems expose themselves on grey matter. Something vague comes into plain view. I’m certain that if you looked closely through the pupils in my eye you’d see the picture clearly. A voyeuristic view of my life. You’d peek; you’d perve your way in. Focus on what I see when I wake up. You’d see her. Hair dishevelled, with her deep brown eyes gazing back attempting to focus through the mist of last night’s slumber still on the cusp of her retinas.
You want my tales, my stories, and my fantasy land. You live vicariously through me. “I don’t have to live. He does enough living for the both of us. All I need to hear are his crazy ass stories,” a girl told a random starnger at the bar the other night.
Well, here’s the deal, I’m tapped out. I’m done. Finished. I’ve accomplished what I want to with my tales for public view. I’ve outdone myself and finally I’m free from those constructs you put on me. I don’t have to be your Saturday morning stand-up entertainment anymore. I don’t need an audience to complete me now. I can complete myself. I will undoubtedly continue to tell you my adventures. That’s what I do. I am built to entertain. However, now I do it all for you, not for me, because I want to not because I have to. All it took to realise this was the help of the mist.