Inside Da Vinci’s Mind

Some events in our lives define a mood, a time period or even influence/change who we are as a person. It’s these events that are toxic and almost explosive, just touching on this gives me goosebumps, all those ‘fake people’ and ’empty life forms’ you came across having only negative implications on your life. Most of the time unintentional, completely unplanned only leaving room for more knives to be stuck in whilst in their presence, be it digital, be it real the true extent is never at first know.

Experience is the key, in the eyes, in the blank unwilling reply to a conversation after all no one but that being knows the thoughts rushing through their mind. Slowly but surely we lose faith in humans as a species, seeing so many ‘perfect’ relationships on our digital feed only allows our minds to think that we are not. That no friendship or love has it’s downsides with arguments, fighting and ever so small disagreements, maybe if we created an honest view of our lives then so many minds wouldn’t feel as though they are alone, in feeling left out or friend-less. Upon this a view should be taken for our well-being, for our minds to put to rest all the anxiety that social butterflies and extroverts have caused, a picture only paints a snapshot of the moment. Did Mona Lisa always look so still and effortless? Was Da Vinci only painting his perception? For all we know Lisa could have been a dark force to be beckoned with, making others feel her confident wraith as she married with 5 children at such a young age giving all to a cloth merchant.

Famous faces only give the positive story, most of the time this is to portray a strong message to their fans and that they don’t want others to see them crumble. Not always the fault of their own, attacks from the media and bad press received can blacken a name, painting an alternative picture to that of the truth. With honest news and messages becoming seemingly hard to come across this only dampens the stigma and social acceptance of mental health issues and how emotionally we are all different. Caring for minds is like holding a beating heart in your very hands, if left alone it will continue to beat but throw a complication to the system and starve it of oxygen suddenly it becomes broken and begins to feel at half battery power once again. The right conditions, the almost niche environment and the select social few can change the tone, with their power comes a responsibility. Speaking only words yet transforming and ridding the mind of dark clouds feeling awake once more to the reform of reality and growing ever stronger in society until another day.

Off loading many of these stimulating thoughts all into one, take from it a mind filled with strength and education. Yet this is not a test to see who will pass and those that will fail, just instilling this thought and being mindful of others should do the trick. Wearing an honest smile only when feeling as though today the sun is shining, allowing the fake abnormalities of social surroundings to be fluid and instead felt as raw, organic truths.

 

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Toothpaste Tastes the Same

Monday morning, seven hours into the am, the alarm strategically sounds, a sudden shudder and a somehow planned stretch I am awoke. Brain telling me that if the eyes close I’ll be a goner and probably fired from work, on the other hand it screams ‘be different’ obediently listening the angel of goodwill and morals on my right shoulder. Getting up out of bed at this some what life absorbing hour feeling torn and battered from the luxuries of the weekend, once again feeling the strained spine and bad back motions from the chains that surround my very generic office swivel desk chair, in that formal air-conditioned unit breathing the same as every other freedom seeking soul.

With the blind now rolled up to reveal the street light estate in which I live, a few other curtains like mine are hazily open with small shudders of others getting ready to leave for the day. Sneaking downstairs alone, desperate not to wake the family, deactivating the second alarm for the morning and entering the kitchen to fill my bowl with well marketed health filled oats, adding milk then microwaved – the ease of the twenty-first century. The time now set for two minutes, the clock ticking again as I still begin to wonder ‘can I ditch work?’ Again the right side wins. Armed with my spoon the time is up and predictably as the every day norm goes I stop the timer with one second to spare, the OCD in me telling that I have saved myself from the timer and any unnecessary attention being drawn from anywhere else in the home.

Now to the living room, undressing the blinds being able to see a small glimmer of sunlight peaking around the garden alley emotionally this rings a lot nicer. Digging into breakfast, usually food at anytime is good but this just feels like disappearing sunlight, using my t-shirt as a sort of guard against the crucifixion of the heat from my microwaved bowl. The last spoonful now filling my mouth, my mind hoping for more of this edible substance but instead I am retained to the routine. Back to the kitchen for the same glass of water that every morning brings, swilling it around my mouth, cooling the taste buds of my tongue. A sort of cold burn now felt as I reach the final ounce of my glass, imagining that today’s tasks are soon to be completed, my eyelids now like shutters are they open? Should they be closed? Breathing through the tapping pain felt at the forefront of the brain, relaxing the mind as a sort of hug to say that everything will be just fine.

As I carefully place the glass on the kitchen surface for the first time in twenty-four hours I know that the next stage is to come.

On the very bridges of my toes, slowly but efficiently making advances up the stairs to the bathroom for the penultimate stop. Checking my image and sleepy eye filled appearance in the mirror should I wet comb my hair to make it look more appealing? Probably. Reaching for my toothbrush, a lucky guess to get this one right with the light being off as to minimise the noise of the shattering fan that would fill the vicinity; I show the brush to the window pane hoping to shed a little colour on this grey situation. Once I can be sure of my ownership to this brush I take a grasp for the toothpaste, three stripes as always as though to be patriotic to the fresh feeling to come. Now squeezing the end of the tube a small stripe is displayed onto the brush a small rinse and ready to go in. The top first, hoping to reach all faces and every tooth as an equal. Onto the bottom as the paste now runs sparse perhaps I spent too long focusing on the top and not saving enough for the lower row? A small rush to give the remaining bodies a quick shine before spitting out the scum. After three hundred and sixty-five days at the least, even the toothpaste begins to taste the same, with a lack of freshness and excitement just like me. Doing its job and providing a small service to the all-powerful world. Still having uses but all too constant and much of the same in order to be rewarded with the cold hard paper stuff.

Finally in this room I wash, lather my hands and then leave on the trigger of the almost silent plug hole gargle to the bedroom.

Time to get changed into a shirt and some formal trousers in order to fit the criteria of the role. Gathering some socks, underwear and my attire I change and feel unlike the toothpaste a little more fresh and worthy. Spraying only a small amount of deodorant under the arms and around the body, immunity to the smell and effect that I once felt. Buttoning the shirt and pulling up the trousers now I am ready. The day can almost too immediately face me, as I do it, until another blast of the alarm my morning routine is far away from me now.

It’s over as I lock the front door behind me and climb into the car, turning to the ignition only nine to five awaits.

Closing disclaimer: On a more serious and personality filled note, never did I ever think that I could be so in-depth about toothpaste. But there it was, thank you I guess to the creativity that I can now hone and to the dark spots and uncontrollable down points that come with it.

 

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Infuse for the Flavour

Pouring the boiling hot substance into a mug, drop in the flavour and infuse. Letting the taste strengthen with every second, perhaps adding a little sweetness to enhance the excitement, best served hot and freshly brewed. Once cold all lack of interest is gone, just poured down the drain with the rest of the bitter-sweet exes. Could it be tea? Conjuring over the lines again it sounds a little like every relationship I ever had, cold and not stirred enough for the full flavour to be unleashed.

Like tea, in relationships I can be pretty particular, always wanting more substance and less ‘please leave me alone’ which explains the very reason that I’m single and have either little to non or sudden impulsive wants for a relationship. Just someone to hold and flood away the thoughts would be nice, convincing myself to the idea though it has to be the right person; trusting, loving and familiar without too much of an idea of who I once was only where I am going.

Almost gone without saying, Valentine’s Day is upon us. Please I pray don’t be another reminder of how potentially introverted and in-social I can be, instead allow personal goals to be thought out and encouraged.

Allowing another throwaway to enter my mind was never the plan.

Not even surviving January, guess it was dry but it was me, I said goodbye, I had to.

Being positive and taking a deeper look into this feeling will only allow me to feel more emotionally forgotten so I sit up and love myself. Tomorrow’s fortune will never be forgone, opening my mind and seeking out another ‘potentials’ I feel it coming again, swearing that this time I’ll let the flavour infuse and maybe not expect every sip to be perfect or as good as the initial one. Programmed to fail is how I see it, perfection is what is expected yet it never surfaces. Unnervingly taking on the idea that perfection is too much, even the hottest summers day has a breeze or moment of shade.

The promise I’ve made to myself?

Try failure and that heartbreak diet a few more times before you call it a day and just settle for one cup to fill instead of many half full.

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Differing Fortunes

Never have I listened to fortunes or telling of the future, only when fueling self-esteem and I’m allowed to believe that any chance of it happening is greater than seventy percent. Positivity and drive have always been experiences that are either felt greatly or not at all, in other words if my heart isn’t in it then I won’t waste my time trying. Admittedly not the best or most popular mantra to have however, on the other end of the scale if my mind is set on something then there is no option other than to achieve.

The coming of Chinese New Year which I’ve never knowingly celebrated brought with it fortune and open ideas, I say this because the fortune received was one of happiness and hope, one that actually made me believe in myself. Yet the thought of this is insane, words being able to change a mood or emotion, words giving us hope or filling us with fear, just words.

“In dreams and in life nothing is impossible”

One line on a small piece of paper forcefully wedged inside a cookie sized bite, with it thoughts were spurred and passion filled my mind. I was told to never listen to what others thought or pay any attention to how others viewed me but from this small anonymous piece of paper I am more judged and categorised than ever. Moments like this can either help us rise or see us fall, if it’s bad we choose to ignore, if it’s the other way then it’s to be listened to.

Overthinking the few words I was fed would be silly and down right wrong, on the other hand they wont be ignored. Maybe one last little pick apart of every character before the words become too ingrained and lead me to believe that they are everything my life has to offer the world. In dreams and in life comparatively leading my hopeful mind to allow for a sense of false reality to be created, one that gives truth and grit to be felt from the silliest of throw away thoughts. Nothing is impossible, although I believe this I am still questioning it with all my might.

And so let the year of the rooster, with all its wellbeing and impossibilities begin!

Now because of this I believe that opening up to new ideas and cultures is exciting, I’m not implying that now because of this I’ll be the most supportive of Chinese values. Instead allowing others in and not being so frigid to shut them out, after all difference is what helps us differ.

 

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