Fractal Moments

5.13.10


The stillness in the air aside from a fan in this scorching corner of humanity, this is where I must exist, at least until I can't. This place, this place is nowhere physical although from time to time auras will follow this pattern.

The psychic existence of a suppressed human being is not as much a situation under immense pressure than it is a vacuum. The mind will destroy everything it seeks, suck it all in, careless as to what lives or dies, to attain a piece of something digestible, something that fits.

Here on this mysterious planet, in this moment of space and time, billions of sentient humans exist simultaneously, all walking through their usual, and vague patterns. Who are these humans, these creatures who move so robotically through their hazy, uncertain existence?

On the surface it all seems so explainable and comfortable. So many faces, so many places. On one hand I want someone with a knife to come up and stab me in the temple, but on the other hand all the pretty trees, leaves, and bees make me want to plow through another day on this gravity prison.

Life is a constant fine line between the will to seek utter self-destruction, or to continue on, knowing well that everything you need to do is completely pointless and in the grand scheme of the universe, means absolutely nothing. These are hard extremes to balance, especially when you're always contemplating them. How could you not be?

The truth is, we all are. The problems of our lives go beyond 'quit your crying and pull yourself up by your own bootstraps' and 'it's all how you make it'. What if it's not how we make it, what if everything blows up and falls apart again, what if everything IS exactly as it seems. Truly a horrifying predicament, and because of it we're all constantly on a mission to infuse something into us, to lead us away from the death march of daily existence.

This is what I do, this is the monster I have become. Who's your monster? Who is your face? Where are we going?