Sawhead

Imagine if on your shoulders there was a saw instead of a neck and a head. A long aluminium sharp toothed saw that glittered under the morning sun. Sounds beautiful, doesn't it. A saw. A weapon of destruction. No eyes and no ears. Only a saw. Blindly stumbling around sawing stuff up. Great. And you can't even see it. You don't even know the damage you are doing. Obviously this is imagined. An imagined scenario. But really, take a look at the world.... look at the damage, the destruction.... look at the state of the environment. Aren't we all walking around with giant metal saws on our shoulders anyway?

The Mask

It is easy to be faceless. Faceless is a career. Faceless is an aim, an achievement. It is a divine right to be faceless. Faceless and nameless. Wouldn't that be nice? Wandering around aimlessly getting into all sorts of dangerous predicaments, but don't worry because if you are faceless then you are also blameless. Faceless is an aim. Make a career out of it. Don't take any responsibility for yourself or even those your faceless thoughtless aimless actions affect. Faceless is blameless isn't it. That is what you said. Do you really believe that? I don't see how you can. You are not an idiot. But you are faceless. You are wearing a mask. I wonder what is underneath that mask. I bet it is pain and I bet it is suffering and I imagine there is anger, guilt and regret under that mask too. Take it off. Face me and look me in the eye. I want to see you. I want to see the person your actions have hurt the most. I am looking at you.

Looking yourself in the eye in a mirror is one of the hardest things to do.

You have clouds in your eyes

Objectivity

I can’t quantify the trust I have in you. I can’t compare it to the trust I have in others. If I trust you then I trust you as you. I don’t compare that trust to the trust I have in someone or something else. I see you as you and you as you alone. An independent. An individual. I don’t see you in a medium. I don’t see you in a brightly coloured room. A room with foam padded walls and floors. I don’t see you in a room with fresh clean sunlight pouring through the blinds. I don’t trust fantasy. I long for it. I trust you. Fantasy can’t exist. That is why it is fantasy. Trust is fact and you are real.

You love me for who I am?

You say you love me for who I am. But you can't love me for everything I am? Not everything. I mean what is everything? Is everything and nothing a circle with no beginning and no end?

I am a game of charades and you are on the wrong track

His eyes bore into mine like green poison arrows. They are glittering, red, piercing. I blink, but I don’t look away. I return the glare with a wide shot of green, yellow and blue. I am challenging you. I will not give in. By giving in to him I give in to all of those who try to control me. You do so under the pretence of interest. Get over yourself. Best for who – me? Or is it you? Do you sleep soundly at night knowing you have been the best you can in each moment? You can’t – it isn’t possible. We all make mistakes. I am a game of charades and you are on the wrong track.

I guess what it comes down to...

I guess what it comes down to is this: do you trust your instinct, your intuition, that feeling in the depths of your stomach that says, if this is my decision then I know everything will be alright? It took me a long time to trust my first urge to act in a particular way when faced with a dilemma, internal or external. Those questions blew in thick and thin and I never realised that it was I, it was me who had the choice. Just because somebody else was pushing me in one direction did not mean I had to acquiesce. I did not have to cooperate reluctantly, sidelining my anger and resentment elsewhere. I had the choice. If I inherently came to the conclusion that I did not agree, that I was not comfortable, not happy - emotionally or morally - then I did not have to submit to somebody else's choice. But your interpretation might be different - you may see it as perverse and obstinate, pig-headed and irrational. Whatever, that is your choice, your personal interpretation. I simply think I am trusting my instincts and listening to my soul.