Ghost in the Machine

People who don’t question things must be a different species. Call it NPC, call it something else, but don’t tell me we’re on the same mission.

How could you go on with your life without questioning why do you live this particular life? One morning you open your eyes and ta-da! you have consciousness. I don’t even remember at what age I started to feel human, a separate entity. Was it around forming my earliest memories? Between birth and death, this thing that’s happening to us, is it as natural as we take it? Not knowing anything about existence is reaaally pissing me off. And having to spend 12 hours behind a screen, constantly bombarded with false emergencies, not being able focus on what really matters is pissing me off even more. Like I have my personal fucking Agent Smith, turning my life into a misery pit, making sure I cannot climb out of it.

I think I started to regret my career focus. I invested too much in it, and success doesn’t taste as good anymore. If you always take the right decisions, but still end up in the wrong place, who is to blame? Must be your cortex; making mistakes either assessing the decisions you take or the places you end up in.

Do you ever wonder what’s heavier than regret? (and don’t say your fat ass) Maybe it’s trying to avoid eye contact with yourself in the mirror, when you no longer happy with yourself.

What can you do about it when you can’t do anything about it? I’ve come to a conclusion. Language is the virus that spreads false hopes and synthetic desires. It infects our minds with other people’s delusions. To alter consciousness and authenticity, all tongues must be cut.

And I’ll start with mine.