Patterns._Can I?_Memory Gap_If They Only Knew
Catalog Guide:
Patterns.
Humans were designed to be predictable.Designed: planned or conceived in detail or for a specific purpose.Predictable: Able to be predicted. Like a number sequence. Number sequence: a list of numbers that are linked by a rule.2, 4, 6, 8、..Designed, predictable, lwww.onedoor.ccinked by a rule. And my personal favorite.0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55、..At first glance, the numbers look random, not designed, unpredictable, unlinked by a rule. If a human were to look closer, their intuition could detect a relationship between the numbers, but not what it was. This sequence could be solved. (Solved: find an ...
Can I?
I can’t sleep. I toss and turn. I count. I briefly contemplate taking some sleeping pills, but quickly discard this idea. I prefer having my mind clear. Especially now.No, I shouldn’t think like that. I just love being alive and fully conscious. That ‘s why I don’t do drugs or drink only occasionally and in little quantities. I just like to always know what’s happening around me, live my life experiencing all I can.That is not the right train of thought right now.I quietly slip out of the bed and don’t even bother with slippers. I sneak down stairs barefoot, grab my coat, and get in the car p...
Memory Gap
It has been twenty four years since I'd last seen it, but the place looks exactly the same. My grip tightens around the seat belt, as we pull up the driveway. My stomach churnes. I fear the Burritto, I got from the drive through, would be on the carpet of my Toyota Tacoma. Breathe Catheleen. Breathe. "I was so happy when you called yesterday. I couldn't believe it..." Except, I don't remember. I don't remember calling her or asking her to bring me back...here. Was I drunk again? That would explain why I was passed out when she came. No. It doesn't make sense, no part of me wants to be here. N...
If They Only Knew
I wake up in a bed that is too firm. The sheets are rough to match. My head is pounding, my thoughts foggy, as I look around to see that I am in a hospital room. Large medical machines are emitting a sporadic high-pitched beeping that makes my head throb even harder. “W—wh—what happened,” I wonder aloud to the empty room. It is a struggle to get the words out. My lips and mouth are painfully dry. How long have I been here? I shift in my bed and am instantly overcome with a searing pain that shoots across my body. It radiates from somewhere within my torso and I freeze, holding my breath until ...