The Reality Syndrome

"My tears hang from the ceiling
like false stars that could fall
any time now."

AN INTRODUCTION OF SORTS:

STARS AND CORPSES

It starts with the sky.

Or the stars in the sky, to be more precise.

Humanity has always been fascinated by stars; by the constellations they form and the stories they weave. They tell you that stars are blazing balls of gas; a wildfire in the heavens. Looking at a star is like looking back in time, past eons of bursting energy and creation. Stars are snide, sly things, and it is they who give the sky character.

"The sky is alive," you say?

The sky is dead.

If you are looking for a logical explanation to the aforementioned statement, then I am afraid you have come to the wrong person. I deal with the facts, and the facts alone. They may be warped, twisted, distorted in unimaginable ways, but facts they shall forever remain. Think of it as a game. I hurl the bricks at you, and you catch. How does that sound? You're up for it?

Wonderful! On with the lesson, then.

Wait -- you don't know why you're here? Codswallop! Nobody knows why they're here. They just are. Now, if you've finished with your idiotic questions, allow me to introduce myself:

My name is Reality. I live within you and around you. To some people, I do not exist. I am simply a way of life, and you have accepted me in your ignorance. There is much more to me than you narrow-minded humans will ever know! Much more, in fact, than I will be able to teach you in the following lessons of betrayal, lust and worldliness. I can tell you tales of lies and deception; war and death. I am a prism, a polygon, a shape with many faces. A double-edged sword. Putting up with me is like putting up with a parade of paper-cuts and bruises. It is no surprise to me, then, that mankind prefers to accept Death instead of befriending me. Death is predictable. He comes and goes, but only once in a person's life. Reality, on the other hand, is the epitome of unpredictability.

So here is a lesson for you:

All stars unite to form a corpse.

Think of people as stars. I see them die everyday. I see their fellow humans weep and wallow in their despair. It's laughable, sometimes, the way they smile their last smiles and say their last, cheesy words. Sometimes, they even verge on the edge of being nauseating, and that's when I don't bother to stay long enough to see their souls fly. But, ah, it is so very beautiful when they do. Imagine opalescent fireworks and curtains of crystallized laughter enshrouding a decaying corpse. A velvety casket of billowing smoke that rises around them. But it is the souls of the dead that attract my attention the most: some souls are like withering feathers; scratchy and pitch-black. Other souls are all plume and pomp, but empty inside. But it is the laughing souls that make me cry, and it is their bravery that I admire and like best. I even feel sorry for all the pain I made them go through, whilst they were among the living. I can't help but wonder what the fate of those departed souls is, though, and what happens to them.

It isn't my job to know.

My job is to teach humankind it's lessons. My job is to lead up to your death, in a world that is already dead. My job is simple. It is your job that is difficult; a cumbersome task, indeed.

Your job is to Believe. To love Him and fear Him.

Let's come back to square one. That is, stars and corpses. The sky is a graveyard. When you look up at the sky, you are looking up at a world whose inhabitants are already dead. It is an illusion; a relic of a long-buried past. You cannot see death itself; the ashes, the explosions that caterwaul in the almost palpable vacuum of space.

You cannot see death. Nor can you see the living among the dead.

There is life in death.

Am I confusing you? I apologize, most profusely and profoundly. It is all right if you were unable to follow my lecture, since I shall be summing up this entire session anyway.

Chalk it down:

~*Whatever I have told you, here and in the lessons that follow
is not a story. It is happening around you, and in your head.
Remember, I deal with facts. You catch.
It's like a ball game.
Let's revise once, shall we?
The sky is a graveyard.
The earth is a canvas.
Your deeds are the chalk with which you write
on the chalkboard.
And that chalkboard is you.

I am Reality. I am cold and cruel.
I love you and hate you, and you despise me all the same.
I exist because.
You put up with me, even if it is
against your wishes.
I am around you,
within you, and nowhere at all.
You cannot see me.
But I see you.*~

The sails are shifting. The compass points due north. The wind embraces you, and your next challenge hearkens to you like a long forgotten melody. You can hear the sirens singing.

The scene fades out.

Everything is black.

And then all is white.

A gong rings in the distance. Pull up a chair. You can hear the scraping and the shuffling of feet, of chairs being pulled out and papers being arranged. This is life's classroom. Before you is a blackboard, and chalked on its ebony surface are the words:

Welcome to Lesson One.

A/N: This might have several grammatical errors, since I just typed this down and haven't had the time to proofread as yet. I thought I would put it up, and only continue if it's worth it.

Cheers!