Burger Boy

“I’ll have a burger and a pint,” I say brightly, trying to sound as if I meant it. Trying to sound as if I knew what I was talking about. Trying to sound as if the words actually made sense. “It’s on special offer today, the sign says…” They knew that already though, fairly obviously! Of course they already knew that – they knew everything.  They always knew everything. I had entered a false reality and to a certain extent this suited my purposes. To a certain extent this suited their purposes too but I didn’t like to think about this. There were lots of things I didn’t like to think about – a whole big tangled web of things…


Play the game well enough and no one will spot you. Blend into the environment enthusiastically enough and you will be granted the boon of invisibility. Adapt to the simulation with enough dedication and you’ll become the simulation. Be the environment you’re trying to hide in and then there won’t be a ‘you’. You know the principle as well as I do; we all know this key principle, even if we won’t admit to knowing it. It’s almost like a basic formula of life isn’t it – something that’s drummed into us from early childhood. Play the game or you’ll be punished. Don’t ever mention the game or you’ll be punished. Whatever you do don’t talk about the lie that we’re all caught up in, because if you do then you’ll be sorry…


I had entered the false reality and to a certain extent this suited the enemy’s purposes. It suited the enemy’s purposes because now I no longer existed. Isn’t this what my enemies want – for me to no longer exist? Isn’t that the whole point? Whenever we enter the FD we cease to exist – it wouldn’t be the FD otherwise would it?


I got badly confused shortly after that. Very badly confused. I lost track of what was happening and why. The trauma’s still with me now, all these years later. I don’t know who I am anymore – I make do with the fake identity because I know it’ll get me through, more or less, but it’s awfully hollow. The whole thing kind of spooks me – I’m always trying to outrun the hollowness of it, the dreadful echoey hollowness of not knowing who I am, but I can never really get away.  It’s an empty old game and it doesn’t convince anyone, least of all me. Most of all me, I should say!


I inadvertently discovered that being addicted to hard drugs helped. It was the only thing that did help. Funnily enough, I actually found hard drugs therapeutic! To my astonishment the angst disappeared completely from my life. I became angst free – all deeper questions of identity were forgotten about. All I cared about was the drug, needless to say. Either I was taking it – in which case I forgot about all my troubles – or I was trying to source it, trying to get my hands on some of it, in which case I had no time for soul-searching either. Often enough I couldn’t get my hands on whatever it was that my system needed and then I was simply too sick to be thinking about anything.


This worked fine for me for many years until I developed paranoid psychosis as a result of taking too much street speed and then all my problems came back with a vengeance! They came back with knobs on. I was paranoid about not existing: ‘they’re trying to make me not exist’, I thought. ‘They’re trying to make it be so that my whole life never happened’. Because actually it hadn’t. Only I couldn’t think this because I couldn’t allow myself to know that I was unreal already. Instead I thought ‘they’re trying to kill me, they’re trying to ice me’. ‘There’s a conspiracy to put an end to me because they know that I’m bad,’ I thought.


So I kept on running. I kept on hiding out in false realities, which are a device of the enemy anyway. I kept on hiding away from the awareness that I was hiding, afraid that the awareness might turn predatory and find me out. I was hiding from the hiding, escaping from the escaping, afraid that the awareness might creep up on me. It could turn predatory and track me down; it could grow teeth and hunt me down to wherever I was hiding. Only it couldn’t really because I wasn’t really there in the first place. I’m caught up in a convoluted tangle of escaping, a knot with no beginning and no end, but there’s actually no one there. There’s no one there to escape, only I can’t see it because I’m too caught up in the web.





Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *