Don’t mind me

Nothing light or entertaining here. Just 800 words of unnecessarily disturbing myself.

I’m not narcissistic, but I’m special. There’s no paradox there; I checked. Before you misunderstand me, I don’t claim to be talented, more intelligent or indispensable to the human population. I’m not. As far as you are concerned, I am an ordinary human being: two eyes, two eyebrows, one nose, one mouth, and etc. As far as you are concerned, I don’t have to exist and it wouldn’t make much of a difference, the world will get on either way. I understand, because I would feel the same way about myself if I were you. But I don’t wish to concern you when making this claim. When I say I am special, I am pretty incredible. From my own perspective.

I am amazing because I exist. I am the only vessel through which I will ever experience all there is to experience, and I will never know another. I contain all the emotions I will ever know and my mind is the only solitary connection I have to the universe. I am alive and conscious, I am my own universe awakening.

And I am special because sometimes it feels like I am the only one alive in this universe. Everyone else is just accessories, or rather, computer-generated players in the same world that I occupy. It’s easy to believe that when you don’t have any way to validate that they are as conscious of their own being as you are. It might seem like that but you have no way of penetrating their minds, and therefore, no way to validate whether there is an independent mind to all those moving bodies. These bodies, through realistic projection, create the illusion of being able to experience emotions, have reasoning and logic and generally seem to be self-aware. My own mother and father, are you saying they’re not real? I don’t know, but they seem real enough. Everyone seems as real as me, but I have no way to prove it. And that is the foundation through which my self-aware universe exists. It is self-centred, of course it is. I wake up to experience the world only through myself every day.

Sometimes I feel that I am not the universe experiencing itself, but instead, I am the universe creating another universe for itself to experience. I am the humble representation of my mind in the world it has created. My mind created all these things but I don’t know it. Each time I read a new book, it is my mind that is writing it word for word. When I listen to music, it is my mind creating it note by note, whether done immediately and then stored as a memory, or done once upon a time and forgotten. People talking to me: It’s just my mind having conversations with itself through another body. If I learn something new, it is my mind releasing knowledge for me to discover. When I am in fear of the unknown, it is my mind making tricks to keep me from distracting from the experience of life. Unpleasant experiences are part of the parcel. My mind created the world I perceive. I experience what I create, but I cannot control it. In short, I already know everything there is to know, but I don’t know it.

Existence is fundamentally a collection of sensations. That’s it. Reality and solidity are just perceived sensations. People and their quirks, when broken down they are simply how I view them: they are nerve impulses to the brains. Between reality and perceived reality, reality does not have necessity to exist. All you need is the mind and impulses. It’s possible that nothing exists but my mind and its sensations. My universe is the mind experiencing itself. My mind does not exist in my skull, but rather, I exist in my mind. Does that make sense?

Sometimes when people squabble and they attach very huge significant meanings to completely trivial things I find myself to be an outsider viewing a snow globe and the chaos stirred up inside. I see that none of it matters, and I want to shake the snow globe people so hard so that they can see how stupid all of it is. But I can’t because I am inside the snow globe, the one who exists, the perspective my mind assumes. Only my mind is free.

I realize now that this is a terribly egoistical view of life. But hey, I don’t make the rules. I’m a victim of my own mind, I experience what it has created for me to experience. When I die, I don’t know what will happen to my mind. Maybe the mind dies as well, and so does the whole universe, because they’re mutually inclusive. There’s nothing left after my death. There’s no more future, no more progress, only visions left in my dying mind.

I don’t feel like this often, but sometimes I get past the “What’s the point” station of existential thought and I arrive here, at the end of the line, and it’s awfully lonely here. It’s an interesting place to be, but I’m not staying.

Source: Faerie Design 

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