His Mind

I started to wonder his mind, not invited.

I had found my access to it.

I had admired and, been with this man for a long time and, I admired him for a very long time.

And, so I walked discovering the first chamber it was nothing left of impressive. On the wall calculation's appeared, tied to the logical of variables.

The next room was even more mesmorizing, then the first. I couldn't help myself the more, I wandered around, the more curious I got. I wanted to know every corner every nook, even if that would've taken me an enternity to find out.

And, so I wandered through many, memories of his past where his very self was being formed.

His conflicting values about what's "to be right" and, what's "right".

The War room, I found most impressive. It was in constant state running scenario's about society collaps, words like: Instability, public satisfaction appeared.

I found portraits of people political figures with blue and, red threats.

I assumed there meaning.

Red = relevent now.

Blue = useful for later.

I kept on going, finding chessboards, they where playing games, making the same mistakes over and, over again.

It then struck me, he saw himself as the pawn not just the player. A piece of the board. Black against white. Questioning morality, between good and evil even wondering if they weren't just labels our just a concept restricting.

There also was a huge libary, full of books neatly organized. Books tied to human behaviour, politics anything else he found of usage.

Mental models, playing in a theater, showing predictions of what they could be doing.

My wandering continued endless halls, a door with the words self, interguid me, what I found inside even more.

There was a door, inside the most dark corners of his mind, repressenting the doubts, the fears he had.

"I hate seeing tears, but what if I caused more."

"Am I truly doing good?"

The room felt cold, it was isolated from everything else. If a room could be called lonely...

The rooms of memories where the ones I found myself coming back to.

They where like short movies, which at the end of each frame a core thought formed.

The room of reflection where mostly mirrors, the words written to the walls of what he judged himself hardest on.

Most enjoyable I found the room of curiousity and, little trinkets. I enjoyed the words in there but, it appeared not to be visited a lot. The doorhandle it seemed brand new, in comparision to those of resitance, and endurance. Unlike observation, where prediction happened, yes sometimes the rooms shifted performing a short mitosis only to be split again in a later time frame.

His mind many would call it wonderful, it was structured organized, the true mind of a genuis people would call it. Me? I would call it horror.

When I exited, I was no longer the same, my whole view of him had changed, I understood him now, our at least as far as that was possible for me. My feelings for him where conflicted for I felt more disconnected from him now more then ever. Not because, of the parts of what I understood but, rather of what's absent.

That evening, I confronted him, he thought I would hate him for his morals, his predjuices, the words on self-reflection where spoken out but, for me that wasn't the reason why I left for I had different reasons, none of the above.

The mind I visited it was of someone truly wonderful, people would still describe him in every prasing way possible.

"A genuis, someone of the most astonishing mind."

Phrases I heard about him, his accomplisments. They never stopped, a few years later he married another one.