Too Many Talking Whales

My head is full of talking whales. And all of them are furious to get out.

It has always been like that: One whale gives birth to another, then it gives birth to another one. Often times, they multiply exponentially. My head is a system abiding by the laws of science, e.g. no abiogenesis. That's why, it is but logical that the heavier ones are those who find it difficult to escape. But all of them grew fatter and fatter every passing second they're imprisoned. Hence, the prevalent fury inside.

I stumbled upon an abandoned college newspaper in our house one afternoon. I knew it was my younger sister's school paper: the white, glossy pages, very distinct from that of The Collegian; plus there's a description below the title that says so. What I didn't know was that she keeps a third-of-a-page column for her editorials. As I was reading her random thoughts, I could not believe I was reading some things I have once heard whispered to my ear, and I could imagine how she would be saying some of the phrases written. But what struck me the most was the realization that what I was reading was just among the many writings she wrote (and would be writing) that could converse with a thousand different minds-both the critical and the gullible. That moment, aside from being a proud brother, I've found myself being a living prison, depriving the talking whales of their freedom.

Life is simple but not easy. It's simple to free the whales, but it's never easy. You don't know if they would bear wonderful mammals, or hideous monsters. Sometimes, you even doubt if they are enraged because they want to be freed, or because they want to die. Risky, indeed. But it's a chance I have to take to make sense. To count. To matter. 

I worry for them, for they might be misunderstood and judged. But I owe the talking whales a lot, that freeing them through my writings is the humblest form of repayment I could do.