placebo

a sweet inspiration. would it be fine if it lives inside my mind?

not that i'm talking about imagination; as a matter of fact i have no shortage of that. i don't deal with writing stories just for the sake of it, and i don't mean embellishing truth neither. it's just that i am certain that it's all in my mind. but we can fool ourselves into buying our own homegrown stories, right? 

that's where placebos come in. like the button you press and gives the 'go' sign to walk the crosswalk, that's how they work. they make us feel communicative, controlled. 

we can trick our bodies into believing what we tell our minds. it works with our hearts too. and that's what we do. the world is our spectacle. and we, the actors, shall feel like we're feeling while we're in it.

but at what point, does this line between our hearts and minds blur?

i don't know. maybe sometimes we just feel with our minds. 

i'll keep waiting for that darned day that i shall feel like i'm finally feeling; and it will read like a story, sound like a perfect melody, and feel like looking towards the calm sea as it brightly reflects the beautiful gleam of moonlight.