This is a little embarrassing.

I thought I might write my way out of here. Setting messages in virtual bottles adrift in the electronic ether. Someone would find one, send out a search party. I would finally join society, whatever that meant. I had an idea of what it was, gleaned from a lifetime of secondhand accounts warped by the demented lens of electronic media. These posts are my various attempts to mimic that, to conjure in reality what I see in representation, as, increasingly, is the whole of my behavior. I’m a one man cargo cult.

Years ago, before my self-delusion was finally spent, before I finally accepted as chosen this isolation incrementally achieved through countless retreats from various relationships to the “outside world”, that is to say humanity, I thought of my existence as taking place in a darkened room. There is a door somewhere, but I can’t see it. I can only grope about in the dark, walking the wall with my hands. I could not know if I was endlessly retracing the same circuitous route in a tomb, or moving down an endless hall. But as long as I had faith in the existence of the door I was alright. It would lead me out; I would have friends, lovers, enemies. I would be normal, finally. This has been the unachievable goal I’ve set for myself. I would be part of a greater whole, drawing strength from it, rather than a whole unto myself, consuming my own psychic innards until my hollow, gelatinous shell caves in upon itself in a rubbery heap.

But delusion fades over time. Now I know: there is no door. The darkness is mine, projected outward. I cherish the room as all I know, because it is. I don’t want to leave, therefore I cannot leave. I’m going to die in here. But I do miss the idea of the door. We are all precisely where we have chosen to be.
Save yourselves.

2 thoughts on “cowardice

  1. It doesn't matter if you're outside the door. I'm outside the door, there's a reason why you're inside it. You know what's out here, these people only to ignore you, gloat to you, all in your direction not even to you. All they want to do is talk to you to your reaction to confirm they're better. Or whatever. I sit in a darm room that's not even mine feeling maybe worse than what you've described. I am alone and confused and lost because I am outside. I do not want to be anymore. I want to run away and know no one. I want my hobbies back, I want my mind back. I want to think clear again. My head is so clogged with other peoples perceptions. So lost yet too busy to find myself. It sucks. No one to talk to. Because they're all in their own little worlds. Which I'm just trying to get back to. i've bitten off too much to swallow. All I would regret if I were you is that you haven't shared your mind enough. Not enough people know what you know.


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