I had invented a Hypnotic Revelator and that was pretty cool! If I say so myself. Pretty cool altogether. The principle involved is fairly complex but suffice to say – without having to go into all the details – that it works by hypnotizing you and inducing a constant stream of inner revelations. It induces very high grade revelatory-type material – you couldn’t get better. This stuff would blow you away every time, it really would. I’m not joking here.

So this was pretty damn cool and I must confess that I was feeling pretty damn good about it. Clapping myself on the back sort of thing. Feeling dead chuffed with myself sort of thing. My Hypnotic Revelator was totally cool and yet – at the same time – it wasn’t. At the same time, it wasn’t cool at all. The Hypnotic Revelator was my greatest invention and yet it was also my greatest mistake…

The Hypnotic Revelator wasn’t cool because it was inducing revelations in me regarding the nature of my personal narrative and all the various arbitrary mental constructs that I have invested so much time and effort in validating for myself, so as to prove to myself over and over again that they aren’t arbitrary constructs but actually properly real. This particular revelation wasn’t cool at all, needless to say. It was very far from being cool. It was so very far from being cool that it wasn’t funny.

I rely a lot on my personal narrative to feel OK about myself and my life where otherwise I wouldn’t feel OK. I didn’t used to know this but I do now and I don’t like knowing it. Knowing about how absurdly biased I am in my way of seeing the world and how I use this biased, twisted viewpoint in order to justify myself and my actions isn’t making me feel very good. It’s actually making me feel rather unhappy and demoralized. That’s an understatement, by the way. In case you didn’t get that.

And this whole thing about the constructs – that’s wrecking my head altogether. I keep thinking to myself “Do I really want to know this?” And the answer keeps coming back to me, loud and clear. No I bloody don’t want to know about it. No thanks mate. You can bloody well keep it to yourself. If you don’t mind. That’s stuff you’re selling – I don’t want it. Not at any price. Just fuck off would you…

But you can’t unlearn it once you learn it, isn’t that what they always say? Once you see it you can’t unsee it. Once you know it you can’t pretend to yourself that you don’t know it. That just doesn’t work. This whole business with the constructs – how are you supposed to deal with that? How exactly are you supposed to process that? Fine. OK. I get it. Great. The world is a construct and this story I keep telling myself about myself and my so-called life, about how I’m real and stuff, about how I’m really here – that’s a construct too. That’s also a construct.

I only exist because I’m biased towards thinking that I do. I only exist because it’s my prejudice to believe that I do. I actually really do get this. I honestly do. I just don’t like it…