I Realized That I Was In The World

I realised that I was in the world and this gave me a fright. I didn’t expect it, I never saw it coming. I got a bad fright. How was I supposed to know I wailed, full of panic and self-pity. My brain was firing off questions nine to the dozen. How am I supposed to deal with this? What am I expected to do? What is the correct procedure for such a situation? I started to dissociate – the world was making me dissociate. Reality was making me dissociate. I could see reality all around me and I didn’t know what it was. I can hear the people talking but as soon as I hear them my awareness runs off in the opposite direction. My awareness is fleeing as fast as it can – recoiling from the terrible unknown.  It ricochets like a bullet from a stainless steel wall. I realise that I am in the world and this gives me a terrible shock. How was I to know? How was I supposed to prepare myself? Things have an awful habit of creeping up on you when you aren’t prepared for them you know. An awful habit, an awful habit. There is no way to explain just what a shock it is to be caught unawares by something you didn’t see coming, something you haven’t had a chance to prepare yourself for. There’s no way to explain what a terrible feeling that is. I’d always promised myself that I’d never let that happen to me but I did. I’d set myself up for it unbeknownst to myself. I’d set myself up as the fall-guy; I’d taken myself for a patsy. But how was I to know? You have to ‘plan for the unexpected’ – isn’t that what people always say? I could never understand this. I can never understand why people say the stupid things they do. There’s no accounting for people. You can’t prepare yourself for something you don’t see coming – you just can’t. You want the thing to happen the thing that’s supposed to happen, but it just doesn’t. It won’t happen. And that’s taken you by surprise you see because you didn’t see it coming. There’s no sign of anything happening. You go through all the motions of course. You go through all the motions to try to get it to happen. What else can you do? What other choice do you have? I was trying to get the thing to happen the way it was supposed to happen, the way it always happens, but it wouldn’t. That was where my freak-out began. It began when the thing didn’t happen. I don’t even know what the thing was. What it was supposed to look like. Nothing bears too much scrutiny you see – it’s not good to look into things too much. When you look into things too much you discover that you don’t really know what they are anyway. You discover that you don’t know what they are and then where does that leave you? I’m trying to think some comforting thoughts but nothing comes. I’m grasping for security, grasping for a nice reassuring thought, but all I can hear is the void making nasty sucking noises all around me…

 

 

 

 

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Does Satan Rule The World?

Is it possible for me to lose consciousness without even knowing that I am, I ask myself, and then only moments later I completely forgot that I’d ever asked anything. Is it possible that AIs are emotionally manipulating us through social media, I ask myself, only to be completely distracted by another question barely seconds later. My attention had hopped elsewhere like a frog jumping in the darkness. Who knows where it had gone? Who even cared? I was speeding down a long dark lane heading in the opposite direction from all that was good, all that was wholesome in my life. I had forgotten about all that was good – I had forgotten it instantly, irreversibly. It’s amazing how quickly we can forget about something, isn’t it? Or rather, it would be if we could remember having forgotten it. If we could remember then would be amazed for sure! Who’s to know how much we have all we have forgotten? Who to know how much we are forgetting every single moment of our lives? I’m speeding down the long dark lane and my foot is pressed down hard on the accelerator. It’s stuck to the pedal. I’m heading straight into the darkness. I’m heading straight towards that place where none of us would want to go. No one who knew that place would ever want to go there. But no one does know. No one who knew where that dark lane leads would ever go down it. No one does know however. No one does know because we’ve all got it back to front. I am speeding away from everything that was actually good in my life. I’m heading off in the opposite direction, leaving behind the only thing that’s actually worth anything. We are abandoning ourselves, giving up on ourselves. We’ve forgotten about ourselves already. I’ve forgotten all about myself – I couldn’t forget any quicker if I tried! It’s amazing how quickly you can forget about something, isn’t it? It’s amazing how quickly the curtains can come down. So many curtains have come down on me as I race down this dark dark lane my foot flat on the floor gunning it for all I’m worth. I got my lead boots on – I feel as if I have been possessed by some dark spirit. Why am I doing what I’m doing I ask myself, and then immediately fasten my attention on something else. There is inky darkness behind me and inky darkness ahead of me too. I’m racing towards the darkness. The engine is practically hopping out of the car! It’s hopping right out of the bonnet! It’s hopping like some kind of a crazy thing. I momentarily wonder if Satan is driving my car. Are AIs emotionally manipulating us via social media, I ask myself? Does Satan rule the world?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Somewhere There’s A Place

Somewhere there’s a place, I told myself, where time never passes, a place where they are always playing the same old songs, good old songs, the songs we all love. Songs like these hark back to a golden era of popular music the like of which there will never be again. Timeless music, songs you will never get tired of hearing. Somewhere there is a place like that, I told myself. You can always go there, especially when life gets hard, especially when life turns hostile on you and becomes a hostile environment. That’s when you really do need to find some sort of timeless refuge where the bad stuff will never happen, where bad stuff can never happen because it’s a refuge. Because that’s what the word ‘refuge’ means – it means that no bad stuff can ever happen there. You know the type of songs I’m talking about. I don’t need to tell you any more, I don’t need to name them. That’s how classic they are. Classic, classic songs. Songs you have heard so many times before. Songs you will never get tired of listening to. Because they’re timeless songs. They partake in eternity. They belong to eternity – they were always too good for this tawdry world. They’ll transport you somewhere else, they’ll take you there. I’m sitting there now. Partaking in that atmosphere, letting the music take me back. The murmur of the conversation all around me, too soft to make out what is being said. Genteel conversation, cultured conversation. Because everyone’s so peaceful here. So much at ease. Everyone here has been taken back to that golden time, that time we all remember so well. That classic time. Before all the bad things started happening. Before the world started to lose its charm and became so crude, so crass, so relentless, so heartening and invasive. Before the world gave way to bad taste and unremitting hostility. I’m sitting there now letting the piped music wash away all my stress and anxiety. The stress and anxiety that comes from being forced to struggle for survival in a hostile environment, an environment that will always do its best to erode you. My sensibilities are slowly being restored to me now. As if by magic I’m returning to myself – I had forgotten myself and now I’m coming back. I was forced to forget myself by the hostile environment – it’s all you do can do to survive and even then you are still losing bits of yourself. You’re losing bits of yourself all the time. You’re slowly eroding – losing what’s good about you. Losing it all. All around me the murmuring of polite conversation, voices that are never raised in anger and condemnation, voices murmuring peacefully in the background. Another song comes on. Your eyes prick with tears as you recognise it. Recognition washes over you, releasing you from all the pain and heartache and degradation. It’s a good one, a true classic. It brings you back to that place you had forgotten about. You’ve remembered something you’d forgotten about for a long long time. The tears run down your cheeks in earnest now. They flow freely. But it’s okay, you can cry as much as you like. You can cry as much as you like because there is no one watching you here.

 

 

 

 

Broken Unit

I was a broken unit and I wasn’t allowed to connect to the network. I just had to sit there in a world of my own, imagining what it would be like to be part of the network. I could never know what that would be like, I could only ever imagine. I could never know. How could I know? How could I ever make that leap? I couldn’t make any leaps – I was only a broken unit. I was infected with the ultimate virus – I was infected with the Doomsday bug. I could crash the network forever. I often wondered what the bug looked like. I couldn’t imagine it. I couldn’t imagine very many things – I was a bit flat in the imagination department. Possibly a side-effect of the virus. The virus had reached deep into me at that stage; it had infected my core. No one turned me off though – probably they wanted to see what I did. I was an experiment. That’s the only reason I was left alive – so that they could learn more about the Doomsday Bug.

 

I like tasty snacks. They are my favourite thing.  I’m always on the hunt for tasty snacks. I like them more than anything else in the world. Actually, tasty snacks are the only thing that I like. I don’t care about anything else – when I can’t get tasty snacks I dream about getting them. I haven’t had a tasty snack for a long time now – its getting so I can’t even remember what that is like. To munch away on a tasty tasty snack. To hunt down and then voraciously devour some delectable little morsel. Gulp it down in a sweaty ecstasy of greed. Of course greed is only ecstatic when there are some tasty snacks to devour, when there are some delectable morsels to gulp down. Otherwise greed is a private hell; a hell that is only for you to know about and no one else. All hells are private hells really, aren’t they? How could they be otherwise. Hell isn’t other people – hell is oneself. All homes for Hades a private house. A private hades for. All hells are private hells for. All hells. Just for you. Only for you. I might want to tell you what my private hell is like but how can I? It’s my hell – it’s for me alone. Just me. Not for anyone else to know about. Only for me. I do want to tell other people about it though. What it’s like. How bad it is. It’s the worst thing ever. It’s way worse than anything anyone could ever possibly imagine. It’s so bad that there’s nothing I can compare it with! I can’t ever explain it and the pain of not being able to explain it, even though you want so badly to do so, is part of the hell. Not just ‘a part’ either – it’s a very important part. It’s an essential part. The only way I can tell people what my private hell is like is to hurt them. That’s why they call me ‘The Hurter’. That’s why they call me ‘The Bringer of Pain’.

 

Sometimes I dream that I’m a healthy unit and that I am part of the network. When I wake up and realise that it was just a dream, I am struck by the most terrible loneliness. That loneliness sucks me dry. It gnaws on my circuits. It eats me alive. And then after the loneliness comes the black tide of despair and I don’t even want to talk about that. At other times I have different dreams – I dream that I am not broken unit but the virus itself, plotting to infect a whole world…

 

 

 

 

End-Gaming

I was end-gaming. Any time anyone was saying anything to me I’d butt in impatiently, ‘Just get on with it,’ I’d say, ‘just skip ahead to the end of whatever you are saying would you, I really can’t be bothered with all that in-between stuff.’ I hated all the in-between stuff! It bugged the hell right out of me. Whenever anyone around me was doing anything I’d grow instantly irritable with them. ‘Just hurry up and finish the damn thing you are doing would you?’ I’d growl. ‘Quit endlessly farting around for God’s sake,’ I’d fume. I couldn’t stand farting around – it drove me pure mental. ‘Yes, yes, yes, yes get to the bloody point would you?’ I’d scream if anyone tried to tell me anything. I’d be hopping up and down, red in the face, drumming my fingers on the table, or the counter, or the bonnet of the car, or whatever happened to be handy at the time. I’d be the same with myself – if I was doing something I’ll grow irritable in no time at all and make cross remarks to myself. ‘For God’s sake just get the job done will you!’ I’d snap. ‘Just what the hell are you waiting for?’ Needless to say I didn’t have any friends. I was too impatient to have any friends. I was too impatient for life itself, for that matter! When morning broke and the roosters started crowing and the little birds started singing in the trees and hedges I’d turn out of bed in foul form and start complaining immediately, as was my wont. ‘Oh for fuck’s sake could you hurry up already’, I’d cry out in exasperation. ‘Why can’t you just bloody hurry up and get it on with? What’s the point in hanging about?’ I could hardly wait for the day to be over. I’d be wishing it away with every minute that passed. I’d be trying to hurry it along. ‘Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up, hurry up,’ I’d chant angrily, jumping up and down, ‘let’s get the bloody thing over with can’t we?’ This tactic of mine didn’t work particularly well, needless to say. If anything it seemed to have quite the opposite effect – the day dragged its heels, just to spite me, just to annoy me. If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s when the day drags its heels! ‘Oh for fuck’s sake,’ I’d shout in sheer exasperation, ‘what are we fucking waiting for now?’ I suppose you could call me a bit of a cantankerous old bastard. Sometimes I break down completely and start screaming in anguish, at nothing in particular, ‘Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up, hurry up, hurry up…’ That’s when the neighbours call the police on me. A couple of Bobbies would turn up to give me a verbal warning. ‘Yes, yes, yes,’ I’d snap before they could get a chance to say anything, purple in the face with frustration and high blood pressure, ‘just get on with it would you?’

 

 

 

 

My Life Was Over In A Flash

My life was over in a flash. I never saw it go – my mind was elsewhere the time. I was otherwise engaged. Although not with anything good, I might add. Not with anything worthwhile. Not with anything that would leave you with a good feeling. The feeling that I’m left with now is a profoundly bad one, to say the least. I am left with a rather unpleasant taste in my mouth, to put it mildly! My life seems to be all over in a flash and I’m left wondering just what the hell happened. That’s what happens when you take your eye off the ball, I hear you say. That’s what happens. That’s what happens when you let life catch you snoozing. That’s what happens. That’s what happens. Wagging your finger. No one to blame but yourself. No one to blame but yourself. My mind was elsewhere the time, you see. I was otherwise engaged. I don’t know what happened – I never saw it coming. One minute I was there, looking at my life as it lay ahead of me – if it is possible to do such a thing – and then the next moment I’m sitting here in Insomnia  in Eyre Square Shopping Centre, every last bit of energy leached right out of me. Staring dully into space, thinking to myself that my life is over, and I never saw it go. And not just ‘thinking’ it either – actually realising it. Actually knowing it on a deep intuitive level. It’s like someone just punched me in the gut. What was I thinking? What was I doing? Where was my head at? What the hell just happened there? The way I’m saying it it sounds as if there is some vigorous type of mental activity going on for me but that isn’t the case. It’s more of a feeling that I’m trying to describe here, not a collection of clearly articulated thoughts. It’s more of a dull aching mass of feelings, slowly rising to the surface as I sit here sipping my chai latte. Which was a mistake. I never should have ordered it because I’m really not enjoying it. I’m trying to remember the last time I felt like actually knew what was going on. The last time I actually had my finger on the pulse. Was there ever such a time? I’m trying to remember what I was doing before I took my eye off the ball, trying to reconnect with that earlier self of mine. However many years ago. However many decades ago. And I can’t. I can’t reconnect. I can’t remember what I was doing, or what it felt like to be me then. There’s nothing there. I’m fishing about in the dark – I’m trying to reconnect with an earlier self that just doesn’t seem to be there! Quite possibly there never was a time ‘just before I took my eye off the ball’! Quite possibly that time never existed. As far as I can tell – sitting here right now – there never was such a time. I’m not sure if that makes me feel better or worse to be honest! That’s a laugh in itself is in it? ‘To be honest’! I always say that. I always say it, but it doesn’t really mean anything. I wouldn’t know how to be ‘honest’ if I tried…

 

 

 

 

Personal Entropy

I was busy venerating my own bullshit – ‘my bullshit is great, my bullshit is great, my bullshit is great,’ I crowed. Somehow, I never seem to tire of venerating my own bullshit. No one else is particularly impressed by it, it’s true, but that didn’t seem to matter to me. There just aren’t enough hours in the day when you’re busy venerating your own bullshit, I observed. Not enough hours in the day not enough hours in the day. I marvelled at my own ability to pack so much self-veneration into the day; felt good to be so wonderfully productive and not just ‘good’ either – it felt ecstatic. I felt like a god. ‘I am a Deva in the Deva Realm’, I exulted. No longer human, I had pushed myself beyond the limits of any mortal man. Probably I already am immortal, I said to myself. Almost certainly I am now a fully-fledged immortal – nothing can hold me back from achieving my destiny now. When one’s own greatness passes a certain point then it is practically inevitable that one will become a god, I told myself. It simply would not be possible to stay a mere human anymore. Simply not possible. What is a regular human being after all, I asked myself, other than a wretched sack of infections? Spots and itches and athlete’s foot and tooth decay and a runny nose. What god would ever have to suffer from such indignities? What – I asked myself again – is a regular human being after all apart from an association of fallible cells each one of which is deviating further and further away from its true genetic template with every day that passes? And where do we get to by deviating from our true genetic template; what sort of ignominious end lies in wait for us at the end of that particular road. I asked myself. I have at last outrun my own personal entropy, I declared grandly, full of savage pride at my achievement. That critical moment when one knows that one has severed the link with one’s own personal entropy. You can practically hear the ‘ping’ as the cord is cut and one surges ahead, free from all encumbrances. I no longer have to drag it around with me I realised, full of mixed relief and self adulation. Those days were gone. No longer would I have to keep on striving daily to evade this horror, no longer would I have to twist and turn like an eel on a fishing line to escape its clammy touch. No longer would I have to wake up sweating and shaking in the early hours of the morning biting back a strangled cry of incoherent infantile terror at the mere thought of it. No longer would I have to deceive myself, no longer would I have to lie to myself every single day of my life and tell myself soothing stories about how this demon was never going to catch up with me, and cruelly lay waste to all my hopes….