Don’t we all reject reality? We refuse to accept the events happened and construct a projected mental model of reality onto the world we experience through our senses, only to face the conflict of our foundational neurally optimized reflection of our deepest desires versus the collapsed reality of many possible parallel universes where things could have been different, branching towards the inevitable avalanche effect of cascading events fueled by entropy.
And we do it all the time.
Joy of missing out. Reflection of fear of missing out in wonderful duality. The ultimate realization that you don’t want to go and socialize, and that you only don’t want to miss out where “everyone’s having fun out there“. It’s Friday. Or a concert. Or Christmas. Or New Year’s Eve. You need to be there out with everyone else to secure your image of recognition and status in the society, subconsciously plotting a way to escape early of boredom, I mean, what kind of weirdo sits home and sleeps home when everyone’s having fun out there living fast with all the music, drinks, and people?
I do. And I love it.
Sometimes after a deep sleep in the middle of a day it feels like I’ve woken up to a parallel universe. The time is different, stuck in the past and future, experiencing both together. People are different, as if I’ve I’m visiting the same spots throughout the entire history. The wind blowing, sun is shining, clouds are forming differently. Everything moving superfast and superslow, and even the air tastes different. Something feels off, as the fabric of reality glitched, something has changed in The System. The chilling feeling of sensing everything’s slightly off, as if you’re about to realize that you’re in a dream in a dream where light casts differently, where shadows reflect in unexpected ways. Sounds are distorted, colors are shifted, time is stretched. Feels almost unreal.
A world where people are respected by not which imaginary boundaries they are born within, not because of the family they have, but because of what they create in this world. Not what race or nationality or religion or anything inherited, but the intellectual and creative capability and the potential they have. Where people are motivated not by money or status, but bringing love and joy to themselves and others.
This should be the world that we belong to.
You know you can’t be just friends with some people the moment you see them. You’d want to, but you’ll want more. You don’t want to move away: You want them in your life but at a really intimate level. You want to share many memories and good times. You want to make them happy the way they make you smile, you want to hug them so tightly that you never part.
You can be playful with every single person on Earth but when it’s them, you feel stuck. You feel afraid to break the ice. You can’t clean cut, but you also can’t move any closer. You’re stuck in a limbo with no way out. You stare at the sky like it’s your first time seeing the stars, and think: there’s got to be a way.
There you are, stuck in a limbo.
Sometimes you just want to scream with every single bit of air in your lungs, right into the eye of the darkest hours in a starry, moonlit night, vibrating all the particles in the universe, penetrating through multiverses and all the possible timelines, all the humans, all the animals, all the trees, all the rocks, echoing like infinite mirrors of reality, fading away into the darkness, in a silent, lonely night.
Aren’t you tired of hearing “you don’t need anyone to be happy” or “if you aren’t happy single you can’t be happy with someone” nonsense? We are social creatures, not bacteria. We are meant to be together, not isolated. And if we aren’t happy, perhaps all we really need is someone just unhappy as we are to turn all the solitude into mutual happiness. Simple as that.
It’s been a while since you’ve been here, isn’t it? The lovely people are gone, all the good memories have faded like old photographs under sunlight. The same streets doesn’t feel the same anymore and the sunlight burns just different. Rain touches gently but feels like a punch. All the leftovers are spoiled, abandoned, and sound like rust. Like a parallel universe, an uncanny, exploited copy of the one I belong in that I’ve fallen into. Feels like a nightmare and I want to wake up home again.
Isn’t it a lovely feeling to feel lost just to realize that what you call “being lost” was exactly the right way to go in the first place when connecting the dots backwards?
We all have it. All the good things fading away into the scrapyard of what we call the past tense. All the memories, plans, future goals fade away into a blob of chaotic forgottenness.
We forget people, forget good things, forget how we made them smile.
And we remember that the person who used to smile no longer smiles.