I Am An Emmissary of The Andromedan Star Council

You might think that I am just a regular human being but I’m not. I am an emissary of the Andromedan Star Council. I just pretend to be a regular human being. I put it on that I am. I make out that I am. I go along with the pretence that I am.

 

At times the effort of pretending to be a human being becomes all but unbearable to me. It becomes frankly tortuous and I yearn to be released from this burden. I yearn to let it go, to let the burden drop, to throw away the constrictive mask of my apparent humanity. You cannot realize how hard it is for me to keep up this act, how punishing the effort is, how draining it is, how abhorrent it is.

 

To mimic a human being is truly excruciating for one such as I – it is like forcing oneself to partake in something that goes against the grain, to participate in what is nothing less than pure perversity. To become a human being is to be involved in infinite redundancy. Perhaps the term ‘redundancy’ is less than clear to you. Perhaps you find it confusing. Perhaps your local reality tunnels do not permit you to understand it. In this case, I can try to explain it.

 

To be redundant is to state the obvious. It is to state the blindingly obvious, and then go on stating the blindingly obvious indefinitely – as if to do this once were not enough. As if it needs to be reiterated eternally, just in case someone missed the point.

 

To be redundant is to state the blindingly obvious over and over again whilst all the while imagining that you are a Shakespeare, a Socrates, a Plato. To be redundant is to never tire of going over and over the same dismal point, and finding it marvellously worthwhile and rewarding every time you do so.

 

To be human is to be redundant. To be human – although you cannot see it – is to rejoice in redundancy and consider it the greatest of virtues. To be human is to revel in restriction, and yet at the same time consider oneself to be a veritable champion of freedom.

 

Human beings think they’re so wonderful, and yet to be human is to be always doing things that are not worth doing, saying things that are not worth saying, thinking things that are not worth thinking.

 

And for me to pretend to be human – and partake in this redundancy- is a grindingly painful ordeal. This is my burden. This is my task, day-in, day-out, with no prospect of relief. I cannot tell you how I yearn to shake myself free of this yoke, this burden, and come back to myself.

 

I am no human being. I am an Andromedan. I am the glint of sunlight on the surface of the sea in the early morning before you wake. I am the breeze which stirs the leaves on your garden path. I am the call of the wood pigeon in the evening. I am the plunge of the waterfall, the dizzying swoop of the swallow, the soft tread of the jaguar as he stalks his prey.

 

I am something you once almost understood, but then forgot. I am the blink of the frog’s eye as he sits on the lily-pad. I am the snuffle of the hedgehog.

 

I am the heat haze on a hot summer’s day. I am the midge that bites your ear. I am the red spider-mite on the flagstone outside your house.

 

I am all of these things and I am none of them. I am all of these things and at the same time infinitely more than them. This is the freedom I have had to leave behind in order to be as you are, in order to walk amongst your kind.

 

 

 

Art: ‘alien street art’ on mymodernmet.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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