the omniscient narrator

by The Dreamer

I’m so tired of writing about you.
How I would love to write about someone else.

Would you mind stepping out of my mind?
I’m sick of talking to your ghost.

Whispering Bones by Drew Hairgrove
i. often, i am an omniscient narrator. i observe and i comment, but i don’t involve.
ii. i won’t say i’m all knowing, but i do wish for it to be so.
iii. i notice how everyone’s lives are unfolding before them – the cruel crumple of the chapters in their life, or the beautiful blossoming of it.
iv. everyone in my life is stained with my ink, imprinted within the pages of my journal, fossilised with my words.
v. if you speak to me, i will listen with the quiet concentration of a lover.
vi. my quiet moments are filled with your moments.
vii. i often think of how everyone is doing. if they’re falling in love, if they’re falling apart.
viii. my long nights are illuminated by the screen of my laptop.
ix. i am tired of my omniscient presence. i want to be the first-person narrative. sometimes, i do wonder when “she/him” can be replaced with “I”  i do contemplate when i can finally be a part of these stories, instead of lingering above, a ghost fascinated by the whims of everyone that she cannot experience; the wind that billows everyone’s skirts but hers, the leaves that fall on everyone’s hairs but hers.
x.i mourn over the loss of my river of words. sometimes, words are incapable of penning down what you do to me, how you make me feel like a mess – like an artwork missing a limb; like a h&m in a vintage shop – and then i realise that you are the poetic element and it is impossible to recreate you.
xi. i hate that you are a figment of my imagination; i hate that you are only reality in my dreams. i hate loving the illusion of you that i construct within the confines of my mind. i hate feeling so distanced from the real you but so connected to the ghost of you. what is real? i hate the fictional intimacy i share with you, but the sad reality is when i can really touch you and yet feel nothing. i want us to be lips and sighs.
xii. shh, don’t wake me up. i’m trying to be with you.
xiii. my stories are mostly sad. but they remind me that no matter how bad we feel, we can still make something beautiful.

钧 x x

j e a n x x