The Dreamers

She was a dream once.
Something simple, an idea. More like a hope.

Of a girl with brunette hair who would roll around on the ground with me.
Play like children do.

A distant dream a long time ago of a future that I never could be sure of.

She was an answer.
The resolution of a journey. A reward of sorts if we think in that way.

She became more than a new beginning. She was a complete rewrite.
The game changed. The rules changed. Everything changed.

She was a teacher.
A molder of thoughts. A betterment of myself and a listener of words.

She told stories, she held my hand. She shared her big dreams with me.
We slept in the same bed and sang the same song.

I knew her favourites, I knew her flaws. Thought I'd never call them such.
I wasn't afraid to share with her. Share who I am, and who I will be.

She's kept every secret. She's held every weakness dear to her heart.
And she proved that she could do anything.
Including falling short.
And even then she made that beautiful too.

It was potential for perfection.
It was as close as we could get.

Two dreamers living a dream. Creating it out of nothing.
Not sure where the story is going. Not sure they want to know.

Just happy.
As long as one is with the other.
So long as they are together.

The world isn't as big.
The future isn't as scary.
The dreams aren't as far away.

And while issues never go away.
All it took to change my life,

was for her to say yes.

- Taylor J. Pridgen

The Self-Apocalypse

Apocalypse From: apocalypsis < Gk apokálypsis revelation, equiv. to apokalýp(tein) to uncover, reveal.

If a dream were reality we'd sit proudly and boast the ability to fly away with sullen wings. If life were unique we'd all be the sun. A blast of overwhelming modesty lost with the bonds that make the harsh and cold.

If everyone was truly excluded from one another and lived inside their own head we would interact with what we see those others to be and how they live would just be a figment to us. We see what we want to see and nothing more and somehow it always gets lost in translations between worlds.

To you it's reading and words on white and to me I describe in personal proximity to those who read the words suspended in air that I etch meaninglessly onto cave walls as a way to track something, progress? Anything. To you it couldn't be.

Waiting for the disaster to reveal is like life; living with the seconds that tick away and die, one after another filling their purpose faster than we and we feel foolish to waste them. It will come for us all. And to everyone it will come differently.

I've experienced apocalypse many times in my life and can remember a few of them vividly. I didn't die; the world ended as I knew it and blossomed again in something unclear and not absolute. Like love. Like school. Like death? I wouldn't know.

There's a social understanding taken for granted amongst the massive assembly. The Unveiling needn't be taken negatively all the time just for what it's associations are to be. If you fear its name, it gives it power. If you personify and/or mortalize it within your individual reality, you can reveal something world changing.

-Taylor J. Pridgen

The Odds

There's something about the exchanging of months that leads me to believe that if I don't write in January I'll be sorely upset and can't take the chance to miss out on the opportunity of anything.

Humans have the most silent, beautiful, elegant and yet hidden metamorphosis out of any living creature. The way we can change, grow and adapt ourselves to any situation breaks any aspect of natural. We are a logical impossibility. The fact that the human race, even the Earth, exists is a matter of Universal-Scale Chances. And yet we broke that expectation too.

So how does each of us exist. Solace, a bus ride, isolation in expectation and a curious eye wandering through the motions of a more curious brain examining the brief touch of a meeting between individuals. Is that what we are? We are individuals of each other.

How is it we crave for individuality and yet hate to be alone?

There's a theory pertaining to the end of the world (as we know it) that more or less states that eventually our entire collective consciousness will be compiled into one big being. We will cease being unique minds and share a brain. Like an ant colony.

And all I can think about is how will this affect me.

Are we able to live in a world without that catalyst of uniqueness. Are we able to live in a world that isn't lonely? Can we survive as a race in a world where you, yourself cannot play violin on the Great Wall of China or dance in Ruins of Rome?

Is it truly possible to find yourself and grow, and change and adapt in a world that's uniform on every level?

Aren't we already one in a billion odd?

How can we not be unique and rare,

on a world that is itself unbelievable.

- Taylor J. Pridgen