Hi, I’m Kyle. I go by DBK, Kai, DB, Kibble. My mind’s distracted by the voices of colorful characters in my headphones. I lost a close relation to one and gained countless more, a sign of the times and the aegis technology forms. My phone is a cracked mirror. It still reflects but requires repairs. Truthfully, tools require maintenance, myself included. Your faults, unanswered permeate like spider’s webs, fine indistinct. Unimpressive, until it ultimately falls apart, leaving noticeable scars. “How did you break it?” Just check the device. Reminders always confuse importance and urgency. Price changes make unchanging avarice apparent. Cash rules everything around me. I want it all, even if nothing else. Greed doesn’t get us good gifts. Thousands of emails, the number of times your attention spans, or rather, attempts on your attention are made. You realize cleaning your inbox, like your room, is important once you can’t find something. Between a game here and reading material there, a smartphone requires as much intelligence as dumb luck, to make good use of its potential. Save for my prescription glasses, I’m a visionary. Life’s full of ironies.
I reside on the beast coast. Twenty-three years old, I’m still young enough to rap in the shower. My favorite color is blue, my least favorite food some red snapper, for the bones hurt my mouth. Literature was my first friend, before my two siblings. Photos are cheap. Memories are priceless. Why not buy low, to sell high? You would never sell a family photo at a garage sale, or for any price. When I saw her looking far and away, it was clear I must make a photograph. The illusion of a place of worship, doubling in the mirror of the lake, her vacation home, memories of her family, her weekend; I am certain I should not see her face. Her expression, unbeknownst to anyone; I capture the moment lest I forget this place and its cost, life takes its toll on us all. Petty larceny may suit me, as now the moment is mine, a family portrait with one subject, sell it? I cannot afford to forget any more.
My family and I are close. Quite close to fighting each other every day, we are. Fights occur regularly online as well. All our appetencies drive each other mad precisely because our relationships are so unique. There’s no substitute for experience. Naturally, I read to abate my inexperience, how do I find training to be a bane? I fear success, loathe leadership. What a gripping tale. I don’t have trouble telling the truth. Not anymore. I feared everything, but the damage done to myself. We’re all responsible for something like this once. You could be anywhere. “Big if.” Ambiguous, as it is entirely irrelevant but inexplicably tied. “As if that’ll ever happen.” “Fat chance.” “Slim chance.” “Yeah, right.” Like the dark, we fear the unknown. With uncertainty gone, sleep easy like a warm bed. Dreamers might as well be liars. Full of the abstract, a museum of useless things holds “hopes” and “wishes”. There will always be people who don’t ‘get it’ or desire such. “Images”? ‘Imagine that.’ No one wants to hear it, sadly. Keep your ‘truths’ to yourself. No one wants to …no. No one should know. I make my birthday wish and do not tell a soul. It should be the same for my dreams. I want them to become truths.
