I am experimenting with attaching flash drives to various crystals. This is not the finished product, but a sneak peek into what this will turn out like (I used a blue calcite stone for the first go round).
For all the witches and crystal lovers, would this be something you would be interested in buying from an Etsy shop? The crystals would be custom in type and the price would vary on how expensive the stone is, but yah or nah?
It’s hard to place, because your heart is stringing you along, running with your hand, making you believe that there’s another existing body on this planet that is void from your life, but then your brain is actively engaging in a game of tug-o-war only giving you flashes of memories attached to a face. It’s confusing, right? To take words of wisdom from an overly exaggerated quote from some dead guy about following your heart even when your brain holds up the brakes… One organ is pumping their blood through your veins reminding you of their absence, eating away at you like an ever-growing cavity, while the other up in your cranium seems to not remember this terrestrial walking about an earth that isn’t your earth but another earth… An earth devoid of you… But seems to remember the streaming of tears on their cheek and how the wreck painted on their features was a striking contrast to the sun rising, bursting through the sky with beautiful hues- and that one icecream cone dripping through their fist, the smell of spring soaking into the air, their cackle a booming audio bit that plays continuously in your mind…
It’s strange that your heart aches for a warmth of familiar fingerprints when your brain is just a highlight reel of recollections and anecdotes coincidentally tied to the same facial features. Do you ever really miss a person or is it a figment of memories lapsed over memories that you find yourself remembering? It’s as if once someone is gone what’s left isn’t their burning existence but a flickering light that forms a shadow that sort’ve resembles them…
Making you wonder
Is there a body to miss or is it just a long list of thoughts?
When does a person become a memory and are those memories really all a person is?
Is that the definition of missing someone?
Haven’t written here in a while. My organs are at war.
Here’s our latest pistol acquisition, a C-96 Mauser made famous during WWI. This stock also serves as the holster for this “broomhandle” pistol. This also the same pistol that Han Solo used as his blaster (minus the flash hider attached to the end of the barrel). #history #ww1 #mauser #broomhandle
He’s shaking. It’s a small, contained disaster edged by the end of every nerve. A controlled implosion. His eyes are distant, scanning something far away, and you want to touch him but you know better. Oh, how you know better.
“Dirk. I’m here.”
His eyes only fall further out of focus and you wonder which splinter he can see through. Who he is if not himself.
“I’m here,” you say. Hovering near where he’s frozen himself in the kitchen. “When you come back, I’m here.”