Turn on th lights

I want to take you somewhere. It’s the kind of place you don’t really want to go, like a history field trip. It’s not as boring as a war memorial. But can be compared evenly with the emotion of a war memorial. It’s not as vibrant as an art exhibit, but you will find the strange there. So go on this journey with me. It won’t take too much of your time, I promise.
The trip isn’t a long one, just a few seconds and you’re there. Now close your eyes– not really, because you can’t read with your eyes shut. But I want you to imagine we are in this place. It is a room, no windows no doors. There is no way out, no way in. There are no lights, no vents, no electricity. Don’t worry, I can get you out of this place just as easily as I brought you here. The room is divided in two parts, like two people live here. But since there is no way out, and no way in, it is obvious that no one does live here.
On one half of the room there is a set of shelves. They are filled to the point that a feather too much weight would send them crashing to the floor. The things on the shelves are clean, organized, alphabetical, chronological, shortest to tallest, tallest to shortest– perfect. Having never seen the shelves nor the information on them before, you could still find what you are looking for in seconds. The conditions are immaculate, like nothing encountered by man.
On the other side of the room, you see a calamity. Nothing is where it belongs and everything is out of place. The floor is piled high with everything and nothing. The items here are unrecognizable. Colors spew randomly and shapes are unpredictable. You can’t tell what you’re looking at, but you can’t look away. It’s beautiful. It’s flawed– perfect.
These halves are polar opposites. Seemingly unrelated. A world of pure well-preserved confusion. Standing here looking in, you know nothing more about anything you see than you would if you had never seen it. Enough of the turmoil, you have my permission to leave this place. But I bet you are curious as to where you have gone. And how you can leave?
You cannot leave a place which you cannot enter. You, my blessed friend, are experiencing a snippet of my mind. Unfortunately, the tour stops here. I can show you no more, for once you’ve seen these things you are never permitted to leave– that’s why I’m still here. But what you can know is what you have seen.
You have witnessed the battle of my creativity and my intelligence. One side fights for order and control while the other rebels and refuses to conform. With all intelligence comes the sacrifice of flaws. You must be willing to give up something else in order to possess the knowledge God has blessed me with. What I gave up was the control of my emotions– the ability to fight my inward battles. It is a small sacrifice to make as an artist. It was well worth the many outbreaks I have suffered, but I tell you this so you won’t be alarmed next time I withdraw. I am simply retreating to clean up the mess from where one of my inhabitants crossed the line.
I won’t be gone long-
Jessica D. Hunt