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The Safest Space
Everything is an illusion
I am the center of the universe / I am the sun / I am the cluster of stars culminating in one bright and chaotic vortex, one gravitational epicenter of solipsistic mass, one strand of consciousness threading the needle of conceptual existence / I am God.
How do I know I am God? If I am not here perceiving reality, then to me, reality is not here / was it here before I was born, or have I invented my own past? All these faces, all these names, this ever spiraling arm of interconnected lives / all a figment of my mind.
Do not try to make sense of this life, but notice the small coincidences / You were thinking of a name, you were thinking of a song, of a food, of a place from the past / Suddenly those things pop up in your travels, albeit in different forms, everything a reflection of the substratum, myriad rivulets of the subconscious, the instinctual desires, the need to be admired.
What is religion but a reflection of this need to be admired? What is love but a reflection of this need to be admired? All these strangers fornicating in rooms you never see, each one really fucking you, or letting you fuck them / all these prayers uttered in the bleakest vestiges of darkness or in the most jubilant moments of triumph, all in praise of you, or questioning you and your seemingly endless reserves of…
