(AIASP) BLUE ROSE

BLUE ROSE


*** The hell we create for ourselves, in our own mind , can be more lonely, strange, and terrifying, than anything outside of us. ***


INSPIRATION: From the Novel Cold Fire By DEAN KOONTZ
We can embrace love; it's not too late
Why do we sleep, instead with hate ?
Belief requires no suspension
to see that hell is our invention.
We make hell real; we stoke it's fires
And in it's flames, our hope expires.
Heaven too, is merely our creation.
We can grant ourselves out salvation.
All that's required, is Imagination.


-THE BOOK OF COUNTED SORROWS




ROSE'S JOURNAL

Journal entry-
January 13, Morning

Every environment is unique to the individual experience. And each experience is an event unto itself, never to be completely replicated. For not two people ever, in history,have done precisely the same thing, at precisely the same place, at precisely the same time. Perhaps I muse too much. It makes the hours pass quicker. I find
if I concentrate my thoughts solely on one thing, it makes it easier to ignore the interference of voices that constantly barrage my mind. Without this journal, and writing down all I can, I would lose the rest of me. What little there is left.


Journal entry-
January 14, Morning

How ironic to want to leave this existence the very day I came into it. To have nothing to show for these 30 + years. No great accomplishments. No one to care if I ever make them. Do the thoughts in my mind create reality, or is it my reality that creates my thoughts? Both to me, are confusing.


Journal entry-
January 14, Afternoon

The sun shines a line of light across the bedroom floor. Intrigued, I walk over to it, using my hand to block out the light. Then both hands, making shadows. I smile at
the creatures I make. A dog, a rabbit, a bird, a butterfly. I walk over to the window pulling the sheer white curtains fully open, letting the light pour in, and fill the room.
At first it is blinding, but so warm. I press my hands against the window, then my lips, kissing the hot glass and feeling it warm me from my mouth through my entire body.
I want to stay here all day. I want to feel the heat warm me to the bone.


Journal entry-
January 15, Morning

What to think of life when fantasy pervades reality. When dreams are a better place. When the line between the two becomes fuzzy and gray. Black and white no longer exist. Gray devours all in varying shades of degree. On any given day, travels can be made from one end of the spectrum to the other. Light to Dark. Dark to Light. Back again. With the shades comes the time. Time travels faster in light, and slowest in dark.


Journal entry-
January 15, Afternoon

I stare at the cracked glass in the mirror. The lines like spiderweb holding in the shards that still cling to one another. My face is sliced into a hundred fragments. Connected yet separate. Does each piece think it is the only one? Does it realize there are others? Does it know it is a part of something bigger?


Journal entry-
January 16, Afternoon

Outside the clouds cover the blue sky with a thick layer of gray. The ground below a fresh blanket of white. The people are tiny and they scurry around in the snow like ants in sugar. Two days ago, I felt closer to the sun. Today I feel as cold as if Iam laying naked in the snow.
I look around the apartment. The walls are white. The curtains are white. The furniture is gray and off-white. The kitchen sink, the fridge, the stove, the cupboards, the counter, the bathtub and toilet....ALL WHITE!
I look down at my clothes. Light gray pants, and a white t-shirt. No color.
NO COLOR!
The words over and over in my head.
NO COLOR ! NO COLOR! NO COLOR!
How can there be life with no color?
I MUST HAVE COLOR!
How?
Paint?...No.
Flowers?... YES!
Flowers. Color and life.
Orange and yellow flowers.Like the sun. The warm beautiful sun.
If I can't see it outside....
I want to see it inside.
But that means I have to go outside.
I don't want to go outside today.
Yes I do. I want flowers.
No.... Yes.
Flowers and sun.
White and cold.
Endure white and cold to get flowers and sun?
Inside becomes outside, and outside becomes inside.
Yes. Today will be a good day.
I will make it so.

Journal entry-
January 16, Evening.

Tis awkward that I venture out among people, in the crowded streets to be alone and observe. To escape the thoughts that fill my mind when surrounded by four walls.
Alone and yet not.But the thoughts do not follow. My senses fill with the sights, the sounds, the smells.
The sounds of the car horns, the police whistles, the voices and footsteps of many. The smells of exhaust, damp pavement, fresh ink and paper from the newspaper stand, fresh bread and coffee from the cafe'.
The chaotic symphony that makes a city.The multicolored signs, lights, mixed with the auras of those that pass by. How pleasing to see the colors mix and blend when people walk closely together, hand in hand, becoming one, a new color together. A new energy more powerful than separate. More brilliant than the sunrise at summer solstice. Yet how unaware they are of the power they possess.
I do not smile at those I pass, and they do not smile at me. Barely a glance, as we walk by, an extra wide berth between us, as if we dare not get too close.
They know. They can feel the difference in me. Yet they do not know. A fearsome entity, with a human face.


Flowers,all I wanted was just flowers. Just a handful. Just color. Just a little life and sun. But Iam not allowed that.
The shop looked so beautiful from the outside. Through the window another world from the winter wonderland outside.
Tropical, warm.
Two canaries in a cage hanging near the window.They must be so happy there.
My hands pressed against the glass as I peer inside at the rainbow of colored blooms and the brilliant green leaves.
Then it changes.
The petals begin to shrivel up and fall to the floor.The green leaves turn brown and and curl up before joining the growing pile of death below.
The canaries, once singing and happy, are now still, at the bottom of the cage.
" NO! NO! NO!... PLEASE NO!"
I can't stand to watch anymore. I want to get away.

The world outside just became so dark. The passersby stare at me with malevolence.
Iam death walking.
The sun shines for all but me.
The cold wind blows across my face, and burns me with icy fingers.
If I close my eyes, will it go away?
If I wish hard enough, dream long enough, will the sun come back?
Very slowly, I walk home the way I came.I barely look up from my shuffling feet. I don't want to meet the accusing glances of those who walk past, point, stare and whisper.
I walk forever. Seconds are hours.Each snowflake falls in slow motion. My breath is short and quiet. My heartbeat so passive.

One step, two steps, three steps four. Five steps, six steps, seven steps more.
Skipping down the sidewalk. I feel six years old again.
Step on a crack, break your mother's back.

One block away from home. I stop and stick my tongue out to catch the flakes as they fall faster and harder. A drop of cold that dissolves in a fraction of a second as it melts.

I stop in front of the streetlight close to my building.
Looking up at the light, the snowflakes falling fast all around, illuminated by the glow.
I know Iam standing still, but my body feels like Iam moving up through the storm to the sky, to the light.
The snow is perfectly still. It is only me moving through space and time.
Then the wind blew my hair back and filled it with flakes of grand design.
I close my eyes, and the glow of the light makes everything inside , red.
Color.
The light gave me color inside.
I touch the post with my bare hands. So cold.
Such a contrast from the warm window.
Warm, cold. Light, dark. White, color. Happy, sad. Voices, silence.

A snowplow passing by broke the spell. I smiled and hugged myself.
Time to go inside for a warm bath. Yes, a warm bubble bath.
Perhaps tomorrow the sun will shine, inside and out.


*** WE ARE ALL ALONE IN WHAT WE EXPERIENCE. THE ISOLATION OF MENTAL ILLNESS, IS A STRANGE PLACE.

ACCESSDENIED

reply to post by AccessDenied

WE ARE ALL ALONE IN WHAT WE EXPERIENCE. THE ISOLATION OF MENTAL ILLNESS, IS A STRANGE PLACE

To AccessDenied,

Rose's Journal gives us "normal" people a reason, as to what goes on in the mind of a mentally ill person. Seeing it through Rose's eyes makes it easier to understand. A hateful look towards a loved one doesn't mean that person really hates you. Thank-you AD for the story. You'll never know how many people you have helped.

*Flagged & Starred*

Originally posted by MountainStar
reply to post by AccessDenied

 

WE ARE ALL ALONE IN WHAT WE EXPERIENCE. THE ISOLATION OF MENTAL ILLNESS, IS A STRANGE PLACE

To AccessDenied,

Rose's Journal gives us "normal" people a reason, as to what goes on in the mind of a mentally ill person. Seeing it through Rose's eyes makes it easier to understand. A hateful look towards a loved one doesn't mean that person really hates you. Thank-you AD for the story. You'll never know how many people you have helped.

*Flagged & Starred*

Mountain Star..Iam in awe at your reply. I truly am. Thank you.
Rose's journal..for the most part..is my own journal. My own experience..my own words. Without the mental illness aspect of it though. But I did draw on my depression for inspiration.
If I have helped someone..that is a grand thing, and makes it all worthwhile.

Amazing. Mental illness or not, I think each and every reader "gets" it and has been at these places before.

(btw The Koontz influence is obvious in the detailed descriptions...something that used to annoy me when I was younger and had a short attention span. But today it just sucks you in to a new world)

reply to post by Skyfloating


Thank you Skyfloating. I suppose it is obvious that Koontz is my favorite author. I have read every single book by him. and I do quite often quote "The Book of Counted Sorrows."
I honestly do not believe this to be my best work...but I opened the channel to let the pen flow and this is what came forth.

reply to post by AccessDenied


Very good..... have to agree with everything skyfloating said.

Ive just come from the Soup Kitchen thread to your story...gosh...think I feel emotionally drained...

Thank you for writing this... a flag and star.

Also think you have the best signature on ATS...

Take care,

JQ.

reply to post by John Q


Wow John Q. Thank you.
The soup kitchen thread alone left me in a sad state.
That is the second compliment I have had on my signature today...
WOW!
Thanks again.

Nicely written Access. Very emotional read and brought me in to another world that I don't see in my life. Star and flag for ya!

Your very welcome Ad and whenever your feeling down-in-the-dumps....
Just click on this link.

www.smoothmarketplace.com...

reply to post by Solarskye


hey Solarskye, thanks..and congrats on winning the poetry contest!!!

Originally posted by MountainStar
Your very welcome Ad and whenever your feeling down-in-the-dumps....
Just click on this link.

www.smoothmarketplace.com...

OMG! that is so cute...

BTW...Loving your avatar.

Great story AD.
I love the emotion you are able to evoke from your writing. I enjoy the journal / diary type of narrative too, it always makes a story seem so much more personal.

Da Monkey.

Thanks Mojo...
You know I really mean that.

Lovin' da monkey.
AD