pareidolia.

i have loved deeply and truly. 

i have loved people who have no objective reality or being.

they are simulations of people i have met.

and keep meeting.

it is cruel what my consciousness does,

taking all the people i cared for,

and contorting them into something that never existed.

it becomes a gallery of people i remember.

no, a gallery of all the good parts of them i have retained.

like the stones i used to collect in a basket as a little girl.

this becomes a nostalgia.

or specifically a self induced imitation of how i perceived people.

a little book of beginnings.

the endings have blurred out for me.

i do not remember anymore.

-

it was disappointing.

perhaps even disheartening to realise

that i was horribly alone in my room.

surrounded by people who had remained immortal to me.

an involuntary purgatory. 

one day the house will burn, with so many people in it.

i will give my heart to you, and i will burn to ashes.

that will be my release.

that will be my resurgence. 

-

i curse myself again. and again. and again. and again. 

it disgusts me when the imagery is shattered. and it disgusts me how i love impersonations of people.

it scares me when i realise i have never had a raw human interaction. 

this world, it scares me, when i do not manipulate my perceptions.

i am simply not there.

-

                                                    vincent van gogh -prisoners round. (1990)

(pareidolia is a term used by analysts to define the human tendency to perceive inanimate objects as meaningful. to seek patterns in random information. to give purpose to nothingness.)