Sunday, December 25, 2011

clouds are spaceships

I'm tired of generalizing and unbelieving, of the fact that everyday has just become an attempt at finding something to be enthusiastic about, and still some can decorate it with infinite beliefs and hopes. It is quite difficult to be logical and observe a community drenched in beliefs and how a singular happening, immaterial of its value or severity, is interpreted in their own million comfortable ways, through their filters of beliefs. At the end of the day, it makes sense too, because they believe it happened so and for such and that's all that matters for a person and his existence. Often it feels as if the soul is a blind network of arms reaching in every dimension to hold on to something, to give itself a reference in astral void.

When I become neutral to beliefs, and have absolute disregard for every generalization, I do not understand what else everyday is about. As a being, We've evolved into nothing but animals looking for enthusiasm, to look forward to do something. Yet if I have beliefs, I can look at the same thing as the only reason for my existence. If humans are evolving intellectually, then why in the most demanding situations does man become an animal and resorts to violence or submission? Why can't a game of chess solve issues between two countries? We've moved too far into the complexity of our race. It has turned into a disgusting system of belief-run profits and that kicks you back in a cycle.

When I think about the extents of belief, there are doubts. Is the moon artificial? I just believe it is not and it is making my life a whole lot easier. Looking for extra-terrestrials when I myself am projecting the whole universe in the back of my head is like playing hide and seek with my shadow. Yet, if it interests me and I am enthusiastic about it, my life's purpose is met.

How much outside this system of beliefs can I get? I want to exit the system and look at it from a lighthouse.
A sinister projection of colours from a fourth dimension constantly distracts us from the hopeless entanglement we are in. At most, I can imagine that my existence is unreal and my consciousness is nothing but memory, and that I'm an undefined portion of a blind network constantly being fed with information and as I process it and perceive it and project it outside myself and build my own frame of reference and believe that I exist in it, something is watching me.

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