Dear Guinea Pigs of My Mind

   Yes, that's what you are. Face it. I test out my ideas on you; see how you react. I find it fun to have place where the rash and irrational don't have their normal consequences. That is to say, that not all of my ideas so I necessarily hold of. Sometimes I just put an idea out there to see your reactions. Therefore, for those of you who know who I am, I'm willing to let you know that these are my ideas, and I'm also willing to bear the consequences. But for those of you who I didn't let know my identity, I wish to keep it that way.

    So I put out this request to you, dear guinea pigs of my mind:

    If you know who I am, please don't tell people who don't (yet) know. If you don't know who I am, ask yourself: Is there really a reason for you to find out?

Chezky
   

Children at Heart

   The child I used to be was free. He was the sort of child for which the world was a perfectly just place. Just black and white - nothing in between. Life was good, at least as long as he listened to the rules. To be sure, things did happen that opposed his sense of justice, but those were wrongdoings. No-one would ever come out to defend those actions.

   They claim they're still free; still children at heart. But I'm hard pressed to believe it. To believe that the child that's in them is the child that used to be there. The child that they now have is too intelligent; too biased, to view the world with a child's eye. The eye to which every loved one is beautiful. The eye that envisions dancing in the rain.

    And when someone does try, try to be a child with children's eyes, the same 'they' will give you a look as if to say: "You don't belong. You've seen it all. You've lost your 'child'."
  

Martian Friends

   Again. Someone I barely know sees me, and he greets me like an old friend. There's good reason, though. We're both away from home. For reasons unexplained, we seem to have a closer friendship when we've flown the coop. Fine, I understand. But there's more. It seems like the farther away we are from home, the closer we will feel toward each other. Big deal, you say. That is, until I ask you: "At this rate, how many friends will you have on the Moon? Mars, anybody?"

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Thanks for the Revelation

I never had a normal haircut. It was always 'Wow, who gave it to you?', or 'Nice'. But just a plain simple thing like a buzz - never heard of, even by the boys. What's interesting is that not only do they comment and compliment, but they seem not to realize that they're actually talking to you about something that isn't there. Your hair is gone. I know I sound stupid saying this, but the hair left after the haircut was there before too. So they are really complimenting on the revelation of previously concealed hair. Quite a deep idea, I say.
   

Strange Smiles

     
   Two stops after me, a thin man boards the tram. Glancing cautiously around him, he chooses to sit next to me. I shift - uncomfortably. He's not exactly my type of guy, you know. His breath smells of alcohol; he cuddles his hands as if they're cold. "Don't do anything foolish", I say to myself. "Just let him be".

   "Hi", he says to me. I uneasily reply with a hello, hoping he won't start a conversation. Seemingly content with my reply, he proceeds to occupy a little more of the bench space.

   I continue counting the number of stops left. Abruptly he turns to me and asks: "How was your day?", to which I -curtly enough- reply: "Good, thank G-d". Once again he's quiet.

   Who is this guy, I wonder. Bald, with a stylish but well-worn cap on his head, he looks to me like he's seen better days. I just hope he doesn't want anything from me. But he doesn't seem to. I get the impression that he's content just being next to me. Why, I don't know.

   After the next stop, he stands up and prepares to leave. He has kind of a spaced-out look to him, I notice. As though he has what to think about. Or maybe he's tired.

   A minute later the tram pulls up to the stop where he'll leave me. Exited enough at the prospect, I look his way as he departs. As he does, though, he looks my way again. Lifting his hand to resemble a wave, he smiles and says: "See ya later".

   After he was gone, I smiled back.