My palms sweat as I reach into my cranium, fingers splitting down the crease of two halves that make up my brain. I whisper to you… “come closer…” before I bow my head and pull my arms apart, leaving the insides of me, open, for you to see.
“Without obsession, life is nothing.” by John Waters
You peer inside, foregoing the carnage of shredded synapses and the misshapen brain matter underneath the pressure of my fingers to see a seed. The seed is rooted deeply into the rest of the brain, yet it is still closed, bearing no fruit or signs of growth, nor a prosperous future.
“Obsession is a young man’s game, and my only excuse is that I never grew old.” by Michael Caine
You ask me, hesitantly, “what is it?” I smile down at your feet, shaking my head as if it were a guessing game and I had given you all of the clues albeit the answer. You cringe and shudder at the squish of the brain matter in my hands.
“Any obsession is dangerous.” by Christina Ricci
“It’s my blessing and my curse. My plight and my tragedy. My calling and my downfall. All that has broken me and all that I am to become.”
“An obsession is where something will not leave your mind.” by Eric Clapton
“Well what is it? You still haven’t told me what it is,” you say, now with agitation bubbling in your voice. I release the halves of my brain. The gaping hole closes; reminiscent of the snap of a giant Venus fly trap.
“You cannot intellectualize yourself out of obsession. You cannot cure yourself of it.” by Nicolas Roeg
I raise my head to look you in the eyes and state “When I first became aware of it, it was just a dream. At least… at least I thought it was just a dream. Now I’ve come to realize through this constant vision, a whisper from a distant voice as though my own from a future time.”
“What does it say?”
“Only… to be successful one must conquer thyself.”