How many times have you pierced through the veil and seen what lies hidden? Those truths that you are forced to keep to yourself because no words exist for that unsettling sight, and besides, you’ve forgotten it already, or at least made yourself forget. You wanted your mind to be safe again from lurking horrors. Next time you’ll know better. Next time you’ll keep your curiosity to yourself. Next time you’ll look away.
If we were all unflinching in the face of things we were not meant to see in the first place, what would be the worth of curiosity anyway. Fear is all part of the gamble. A part of all of us that wants to be shocked, snapped into pieces, irreparably changed. I’d like to think that I am made of sterner stuff. But really I just want to be unmade into something a little more interesting. It is a coward’s way to step away from the edge and I would like to not be a coward.
More and more I have grown covetous of stories with doors in them. I love the idea of leaving a place behind and traveling unspeakable distances, seeing unspeakable things, and then coming back to find everything just as you left it. Familiar and untouched and so much smaller, because your horizons have widened too far for you to fit here anymore. There and back never again.
What can we do but look for doors. I have to keep my sight fixed just past the mundane to the divine. The veil is not intangible — there are fingerprints left all over it. A history of travel to the other side, two million years of stories. There are those among us who have been far flung, and I want to be far flung too. I will not be deserted in the endless loops and mazes of a single world. I will travel to deep depths, I will ascend to mad heights, I will bring back songs from outer reaches, I will brush the foundations of heaven with my outstretched hand. I won’t waste time building a tower. I think we can get there as easily as closing our eyes. Isn’t that where stories come from?