Diary of thoughts

  Today, I decided to call my brother again. I think the purpose of my call can be called highly selfish because we haven’t talked for years, and when I decided to talk to him, it wasn’t out of brotherly love or anything like that. I think I’m just looking for people who have similar thoughts, views, and roughly the same depth of these thoughts. I love my brothers—recalling myself as a child, I think they were the most important example for me; I didn’t see freedom in anyone else as much as in them. They came to visit only a few times a year—maybe they didn’t think it was rare, since perception of different things is very individual, but I really wanted to see them more often, probably because I saw in them the very example I truly wanted to follow. I remember when they came, I always tagged along with them like a shadow, and when they talked, I usually stayed silent because I tried to soak up all the thoughts coming from them like a sponge. Even with their rare and short appearanc...

  Recently, I got a job. Now I’m a security guard. Last night, my work partner picked me up, and we drove from Winnipeg to a small town far north. The journey was long and tiring, especially for my partner, who had to drive the whole way since company policy doesn’t allow me to drive the service vehicle with a learner’s permit. We talked a bit on the way, but it was enough for me to see him as a good person. When we arrived in the town, we went straight to the shopping center, which was our assignment. It was located in the center of the town, and although the shopping center was quite small, for this town, it was enormous—so enormous that about a third of the space was completely unused. There were a few stores, a pharmacy, a city office, and a school with a gym. Probably, there are no other stores in this town. I was surprised that the pharmacy sold alcohol besides medicines and some goods barely related to pharmacy—I was told it’s the only point of sale for alcohol in town, desp...

  Today, I found one sock under the bed. I don’t understand where the other one went—maybe it never came back after the big wash. Perhaps the washing machine or dryer separated this pair forever, since too much time has passed to start looking for the second sock. Maybe another family took it by mistake and, not finding its pair, did what’s usually done in such cases—left it to gather dust, giving both themselves and the sock hope that it might one day be useful, knowing deep down that without its pair, it’ll never be a sock again, at best just a rag. They’re unlikely to find a mate for it—it was a bit below average size and had a special branded pattern. The more unique the sock, the less chance it has of meeting its match. Socks are born to be together. Plain socks are easier to replace. If the socks are monotonous or sold as several identical pairs, they’re interchangeable, and losing one or two isn’t a tragedy, but at the same time, it’s even sadder because if they’re so easy t...

  Yesterday, Lisa brought a pineapple and asked me to slice it up. She probably didn’t have much choice, since stores often stock far-from-ripe fruits and berries, so she brought an unripe pineapple—it had no yellow spots, and cutting it was tough. After I sliced it, I ate a few pieces. I love pineapples and can eat a whole one in one sitting, but I couldn’t even manage a quarter of this one—it was too hard and sour. I had to chew it for ages, which made the sourness feel sharper and linger in my mouth longer. The fibers got stuck between my teeth, attacking my gums with their acidity. The taste buds on my tongue felt numb yet overly sensitive at the same time, and it was as if I’d burned my tongue. I tried to dislodge the fibers stuck between my teeth with my tongue, but my tongue hurt too much for that. I realized I’d made a big mistake—not when I started eating this pineapple, but the moment I decided to cut it. It wasn’t ready for it, and with its full-of-life, green appearance...