"Who looks outside dreams; who looks inside awakes"- Carl Jung
Jun Kurosu/ Kashihara 14/02
The most annoying question people ask you as you grow up, is what do you want to do when you are a grown up? As if your life's purpose is to be put on a conveyor belt like some sort of sushi. All that prep work to make the collective ingredients a particular kind of sushi, only to go down the line on a straight path until consumed by the industry. Person. Same difference.
You like the stars. You like philosophy. You like hidden messages, like the many meanings flowers can convey. You don't like the thought of becoming just another working man. You know the dangers of becoming an artist. Your mother has taught you that. You can play the keyboard, but you don't plan on joining Eikichi's band as your life's goal.
You're good at things. At math, at science, at philosophy. You like making new things. If you could stay focused on making most things, it would be easier.
You don't have any kind of big dream, and it often makes you feel lost in life. If you could, you would help other people fulfill their dreams. Not just one person, but many people. You don't know how to do that either.
People say you get lost in your head a lot. It's true in some senses, and untrue in others. The voices around you fade, and you're all alone in there. Too alone. It's too quiet in there, like there's a hollowed out space where someone else should be. That's ridiculous, as the only person in there is you. And yet the feeling persists.
Maybe you only create things to get out of your head, to spend time in the headspace of no higher thought, only the making of something. It's hard to say truly. It's not like you want to talk about these things, but even if you did, who would you voice them to?
Maybe you should write songs out of them, and give them to Eikichi to sing on stage. Writing. A barrier of separation you use to channel the feeling in a less destructive way? Does it count as emotional blunting? Will it make you more depressed?
You're probably depressed. Probably is probably not the right word to use there, but the distance and doubt it gives you from the certainty of the statement "you are depressed" have you putting it in there. Let's think positive, after all.
Someone said that to you long ago, you don't know who, but it bobs around your head like an advertisement. Maybe everyone else thinks that way too, as you have been hearing it all around town lately.
You don't actively want to die, but you weren't caring about living when you saved someone's life at the expense of another. You've killed a man, but what shakes you is that you felt you would be ok with dying if it saved them.
You probably shouldn't feel like that. You probably shouldn't brush off the man's death so fast, even if he was crazy. You should be focused on flying the blimp, not the many alarming things you have discovered are upsetting in your headspace.
You don't even know his name. You don't know what the man you killed wanted from you.
"Remember that day." What day? When? Ten years ago? Last week?
You don't know why the museum was on fire, who these people are, or anything important.
And you don't get any answers, even when you get pushed into the ocean by a mystery hot guy, and have to help the kids in the water with you get to shore.
And this is something you can do on autopilot much better than flying a blimp, and you wonder as you help the kids.
Is it scarier to have known and forgotten? Or is it scarier still to never know?
What would be the cost of truth?
It's a thought that leaves you cold.