Memories from a world I’ve never been to

The idea sounds funny, maybe weird I know, but that’s just what it is, memories from a world I’ve never been to. Now the question is if I haven’t been to the world how can I have those memories? To be honest I don’t know, all I know is I have the memories. But planted by whom? I wish I had the answer, and I won’t be here thinking t myself how I get to have those memories. Btu here’s a slightly complex story, and the separation from what I know, or what we all know to be true- I have my own definition of truth, what truth holds for me, though it may connflict with your idea of what truth means.

Truth is the presence of my reality, and my reality is whatever lies in the present. A definition huh? But that‘s all I can come up with for now. Maybe with time I’ll have another. Now the next question is: what is the state of my present now? What is the reality? I’ll answer that for me- the present is no different from my illusions, they’ve sort of fused into one. What I think isn’t true is true, and what I think is true isn’t. Crazy system I have, but that’s just what it is. Call it issues. Call it whatever you like... Now I go to the memories. I remember what it was like at the beginning, I had all I wanted to have, and I- well I enjoyed it to the maybe not maximum limit but it looked something like that, until everything changed.

I do not remember the point it changed, but I certainly remember how it felt. It’s the feeling of having something climb up your skin with the claws set deep into to touch your bones. That’s what it felt like, and till date I still do remember the feeling as it was on the very first day. It was the feeling of losing everything you call your own, losing your sense of living, your sense of reason, embracing the very thing you speak against with the whole of your self. It was the day I took up the existence of another, and that is my biggest flaw. Alright it comes back to me now; I’m beginning to see it- I’ve lost it. I guess I’m doomed to never remember it, but I remember the day. It was the day I accepted a very harrowing existence, one that takes vow upon its death to haunt me to my death, save I forget the very day, but alas! I’m not to forget the day for a long time to come.

I don’t know. I mean I’ve tried to wrap my fingers around it but it eludes me like a taunting shadow. And the feelings are vivid as on the first day of life. Life is a mockery of the day, more like the first day of dying. I deigned to mix fantasy with reality, much to my injury. Now I see I should never have done so. I try to take my mind off the matter but it insists I stay. So stay I will. I hear the voices, I see the first day, and it’s as clear as the dream. I’ve been through many existences, none as violent as this. I say violent because it aptly describes the passion with which I defend this existence, for it was not to begin as such but to begin every normal existence; live, die. But I’m here, trapped between the living and the dead and I have no feeling to describe the painfulness of it. Yes you may ask how I know of its painfulness- I can only imagine- and the illusion is real.

I guess it comes to the point where everything just mixes together and there’s no clear cut distinction between the false and the true, we all just have to embrace the losses that come with knowing what the truth is- the loss is just as good as the blessing. Or we may ask ourselves- and by that I mean me- how I may come to think of any movement at all. I guess it’s all one big deception after all or maybe not. Maybe we actually move but don’t really know. These things do happen. You sit around thinking to yourself ‘have I really been here all this while?’ when you finally d wake up and it’s the nicest not nice feeling; nice because you’re finally free from the deception your fantasies kept you in, and not nice because they were most pleasant to the mind. Nevertheless this is reality and we must accept it.

But what happens when in your delusion you know you’re being deceived but you just go with it, pretending like nothing’s happening or just biding time until you get your break from all this madness? You see it ending from the word yes and just wait for its glorious ending- happy ain’t it? That’s something else you’ll have to deal with, and at the end you have basically nothing to show for your pain and your sweat however mental and idealistic the pain and sweat may be. Yet this is only the first curve. The second comes at the birth of your death and there’s nothing you can do to stop its death. Pathetic existence I tell you!