My Faceless Days

“And my heart, that stupid heart. It remembers nothing. It knows nothing. Hearts are useless without brains. A heart without a brain is just an engine. A brain without a heart is just dead.”

sergeisviatchenko
Art by: Sergei Sviatchenko

I wake up some days, and I’m not really me.

I wake up with the feeling that something’s missing, that I’ve lost a few days. But it’s more than just that. I realise, as I stare at my blurry, barely-there hands, the shoes still on my feet, that I have been absent, sleepwalking my way through some part of life and—

Oh.

Oh.

I’ve lost my head again.

It has just gone, vanished, simply.

I am as faceless as the wind, and no one has noticed (Why has no one noticed—why didn’t I?). It has just been my limbs doing all the work, carrying my body from A to B, doing everything without a thought.

What have I—what has my body been doing? I don’t know. I can’t remember. It has probably been losing itself in days too alike, in vapid entertainment that only serves to distract on the most basic level. Something that takes your mind (Oh, the irony) off your worries, and fills it with straw, as a way to just stuff it shut with something. Just so you won’t ask any questions. Just so you won’t wonder. The kind of entertainment that comes in 3 to 4 minute bursts that wound up costing you an entire night.

But every now and then, I wake up like today, and I realise that I’ve lost my head, that I’ve lost my thoughts. So I look for them but I can’t find them, because of course, of course, I have no eyes.

But I know that’s not true.

I know that’s just an excuse.

In reality, I just can’t admit that I’m scared I won’t even recognise my own head, that I won’t even remember what my thoughts were like. I’m losing my memories. And if I can’t remember myself, who will?

And my heart, that stupid heart. It remembers nothing. It knows nothing. Hearts are useless without brains. A heart without a brain is just an engine. A brain without a heart is just dead.

I don’t know where I’m heading to, because I don’t know where I’ve been. But I keep going, because there’s no point either way. It doesn’t matter. I drift in between railways and deserted highways, try to find my head among all the other lost ones.  But nothing seems to fit. Or maybe I found it, but it just didn’t fit on my body anymore. And then I try to reach inside of me, to maybe dig out my head from between my ribs. Maybe it’s hiding, maybe, hopefully. But it really is gone. Cut off neatly, rolled off my shoulders.

The only good thing here is that time doesn’t matter. Time doesn’t exist. So I drift for however long, sometime between a few days and several years. I drift to the mountains and to the sea. I drift to the skies and to the stars. I drift to all the things I hadn’t felt before. I turn to the universe. I turn to art.

And if I had eyes, I think I would’ve cried.

I’m not looking anymore. I’m not trying to find my head or my thoughts. I just want to never forget what all that feels like. Grass and wind, stars, waves, rain.

And art…I don’t ever want to live in a world without art. There have been times when art has mended my bones, filled in the porcelain-cracks on my shattered skin.

Other times though, Art paints me a brand new face, fills me with brand new thoughts.

But the memories are there, just the same.

Yeah, every now and then, I find myself, and I lose myself and I find myself again…


Note: So this is probably one of the most abstract and surreal things I’ve posted on this blog. So I feel maybe an explanation should go hand-in-hand with it, if you haven’t already made up your own interpretation.

I wrote this after a couple of days when I spent almost all of my time on social media. I didn’t even feel great about it as I was doing it. Then I thankfully woke up from that addictive spell (if you’ve been following the news, the Cambridge Analytica deal kindof  helped with that). It felt like something was missing though, that I’d lost my time and something else too. So the idea of disembodiment, of literally losing your own head fit in perfectly for me. This story is about how you can lose yourself sometimes and not realise it. Finally, the ending details the solutions I find to my own headlessness.

On another note, this could easily have been much longer. I may or may not be writing a longer version 🙈

 

 

2 thoughts on “My Faceless Days”

    1. Oh, you’re right! But I think even in that state of mindlessness, there’s an addiction side to it that traps you inside the experience as well. Which makes you feel a bit powerless to change things maybe. Thanks for your insight (and for reading)! 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

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