How do I know that you are here with me.
The pint of Guinness was on the table. I was glancing at her and she was smiling, occasionally laughing at the things people were telling her. I couldn’t know what was in her head. But I tried to understand.
I didn’t know what to say. Why was I even there?
I went for a walk at the park. It was there behind the bridge. A lady was walking her dog, the dog chasing the geese that were resting by the stream. I sat on the bench. Nothing mattered, just the book that I was reading. My knowledge was limited. But I thought I understood, no matter.
The more you learn, the less you know, they tend to say. I couldn’t grasp that yet. I heard it being said, but I didn’t know it to be true.
I was alone. That was the first time I truly felt alone. There were other places I had been, but I never felt it, never grasped it, as I did there. This oneness with one’s own thoughts — this solitude.
The music was loud, we danced. I heard people talk, I was interested in what they had to say. It was as if it mattered. I couldn’t understand them clearly, the music was too loud. We kissed. People applauded. She said, “what the hell, why not, Jakub come here.” I thought to myself, oh I kissed this girl, what a tremendous thing.
I might as well didn’t have to feel anything. It seems so distant, yet so real. It wasn’t what I wanted that time to be. It is a distant memory, I have changed a lot, but still.
How could I change for the better as a human, I thought.
I really wanted to do these things, to travel, to experience, to read. I still want to do them. Something has changed.
My notion of reality is different. These taste-buds are relative to my physical health. I can’t focus on that which I do not already have knowledge of existing. The way I talk to the friends around me is different based on what I have already felt and know.
My writing is limited. As these pictures seem limited.
What is reality? Memory or the present?
. . .
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