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Thoughts of a Broken Brainmature

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Diary Entry 1

Congratulations... You have just been appointed as my new diary. Yes you will receive the knowledge of this super human brain, the doors of the universe is at your mercy, and you shall feel the immense self retardation infect your fragile little mind.

Why? You ask have you won this prize of living absolution. Well... It's simple really.
I have this condition see. It's a condition that is yet to be discovered by modern science. Something unknown, mysterious and dark. As magic has always been the term used for underdeveloped, or , yet to be explained science. And as such... is my condition.

My condition?

My mind...

...It's broken

It does not function like a real human brain. It sees outlines of reality distorted by the overwhelming mechanics of nothingness. Almost like a super black hole inside where the brain once was. A void. A Realm. A Gate to another dimension, a universe that is ever expanding into itself. Very much like the one we hear about when clever cosmologists try to make day to day condescending conversation.

And No, it's not figurative for a depressed and sad person trying to cope with everyday life. No, the spacious cosmos in my head is a threat, not just to me, but I fear, to the living reality that you breathe each day. I can feel a disturbing and subtle feeling of Awe, as if the waves of an impending doom is arriving within the matter of space that will result in a cataclysmic "Big Bang". An explosion caused as a result from a previous implosion, which I call Armageddon.
Yes, you have it. Think clearly.
The same concept as: What if the light you see at the end of the tunnel, is actually a new born baby being pushed into existence?
The beginning is the end, is the beginning...

Back in this reality, outside of my brain, I feel like an underdeveloped cyborg in post apocalyptic waste bin of outer limit GUU... The devastation of an interbreeding civilization of condemned morons, flurrying about in resemblance to the flies on a steamy pile of poop. The puppets on strings of social obligation, the routine coffee house conversations the pointless hope of happiness. A term that we have actually no *#@^ing idea of what it means whatsoever. The idea of "happiness" is a very fuzzy ideal, that has only fairly recently been dreamt up by Hollywood, religious groups and salesman-politicians. The fact that the origin of the word came from an ancient Greek concept of "lucky or favored by fortune" have not even crossed modern man's thought process. Rather the belief that it is something that is owed to us. Something that existence is contractually obligated to bestow upon us from our day of birth. It's not the result of happiness that we crave, but the anticipation of the result.

That's why nothing ever happens around here. It's all made up. Random moments we create in our wait for the next "carrot" that will be dangled in front of our noses, in which we so foolishly convince ourselves will result in this gift of ecstasy. Subconscious heroin junkies in pursuit of our anticipational fix.

I haven't always been this way. The cynical, over dramatic and bored person you see here before you in these words. No, It crept up slowly. The dreams slowly started inserting ideas into my thoughts. I started seeing the unseen, and understanding the unthinkable. It was the dreams. The windows into the cosmos that I carry. A trade. A Gift, for the keeper of this Galactic responsibility. That is why my vision of the outside reality has become fuzzy and distorted. I can see the wire frame works underneath it. The cogs and gears that drives it. The system that calculates it. Like the bones of the reaper.

I'm learning more everyday. Understanding more than I ever wanted to. I have theories and ideas. Things I want to try. Things I need to do.
What if, in my Universe, there is Life?
Real Life.
Does that make me a god?

...I think I can feel them.

9

                                                                                                                                         

The End
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