JapanForum.com - Who Knows Really?

A few paragraphs of something I don't barely remember writing.

It was titled, Who Knows Really?
but I don't know why..

It's not about me, it was just random rambling.

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I believed, as a young child, that nothing was impossible. Logical, it was, for someone to fly without technology or machines, but only with their bodies. As my youth passed and the years of adolescence began, you would believe that these dreams would eventually diminish, and other hopes and goals would come into play. For me, however, that's not necessarily true.

You see, my mind works in mysterious ways. There is a space somewhere in my thoughts and processes that allows me to escape the confines of the physical world and enter into a completely delusional and unconscious world.

What you wouldn't expect is that your brain is capable of this as well, the secret is discovering how to unlock that sealed door, and to let your fantasies overcome you.

With these unique powers, what you see is not what is. You will possess the ability to rotate colors, contort the shapes and sizes of anything material, and float into the deep abyss of the imagination.

A wonderland, a fairytale, whatever you choose it to be. Your senses will expand and strengthen, you will see tastes, and taste sights, hear smells, and smell sounds. In every direction, in every motion, and experience, a new one is beneath it, and another below that, and then one more to explode your mind.

It's not true that a substance that you can touch is the only way to have these sensations, it's all mental. You are the only sane person, and yet you are insane. Insanity enjoys you and you enjoy insanity. The sane will never understand, they have moved the ability to be happy into a bin that cannot be opened until nirvana. They are morphed into robots, they are the machines that restrain you from what you want, what you need.

Paranoia.

It waits for you, they watch you. They are the all-seeing, the omniscient. In your windows, in your walls, in your floors. It can crawl into your deepest thoughts, drive you into the horror. Over your shoulder, under your feet, staring you down, and you know it.

They are there, and you cannot see them. Nobody will believe you, they gave up on you. They want you to get help, but no! It's not fair! You know the truth and they are the ignorant. They install machines into their lives to monitor them, to track them, escape is impossible.

But you know better, they have accepted the mark and you will be free.

Run! Run! Run!

Your legs are there, you see them, you know they can work if you let them, but it suddenly doesn't make sense. How do it do so? How many muscles, tendons, veins? How do you work them all without ever telling them to move and stretch and do as you say? Is it possible you can?

You have been induced.
Drugged, raped of all ability. You are inhuman. The laws of physics are evaporating, and even though gravity has died, you do not float. It's too late now, everything is movable, but you cannot move.

Stare, stare, stare, stare.

It's all you can do. Move, please, move!
The world really is flat, the media has lied about the roundness of our Earth. The air is thin and in any single moment, the world will fall apart and desperse.

You can only wait miserably for the end.
But it never comes and you have wasted with these thoughts.

The ability has left you and you die emotionally.
You see everybody as they really are, no longer are they swirling colors that dance around you, they are they. Their arms are arms, and their legs are legs, and they can move, and you cannot. Here you stay, in a bed, with so many machines connected to you now that even if you could move, it would kill you just trying to get away.

Here you are monitored, against your will, and everything is gray.

There are people that come in every now and then, and as your mind grows weaker they become something different. They become scary, they must be trying to kill you. They stare. They ask you who you are, but you do not know. You are you? Right? No.

You close your eyes and die some more.

Never can you die completely, nobody will let you.

Then you open your eyes once more, with the hopes that there is a joy out there waiting for you. The gray is gone and white is back.

The white diminishes and the colors have returned.

The machines are gone, and you no longer have a body that you must worry about on how to move. The gravitational pull is absent, and your body begins to float, a rush of everything impossibly great to explain.

Everything is Everything.