House of Lincoln

20

       They'll call you crazy for thinking a different way. Even when you finally see a truth so clearly, now only visible to you because you pivot your train of thought to a new methodology. We are forever doomed as a society to isolate difference from average, and we will never progress for this reason. We are doomed to remain our primal, barbaric selves, who punish those who aren't aware of the reasoning for their endured hatred. I want to hear and then I want to listen. I want to speak, and then I want to be heard. I do not exist until you allow me. I am dying.

       I know nothing is real. I've ripped a false heart from a fake body. It's all a dream, I bet. I wake up every time I've determined my surroundings are true. I'm so sure every time, and yet no matter how sure I am, I will always awake from a sleep. I'm my own civilization, which will repeat its horrid history until it collapses under itself. Does anyone understand what I'm saying anymore? Am I saying anything to anyone anymore? Is anyone listening? Am I a god? Hahahaha. Just kidding. A god has infinite control over their life. I've lost a grasp on mine.

       I'm completely taciturn, and for no other reason than I just don't feel like talking anymore. I feel like I can only say things that either don't matter to me or don't matter to anyone else. A few days back, for example, I came to school and they gave us a new assignment in English. They said to write an essay about something that interests you and that it must be a minimum of five hundred words. Then, you'd present it to the class. Everybody complained about the required length of the paper, but I found it quite easy to fill a blank page. All I had to do was not stop thinking.

       I have the paper still, and I'm proud to say I got a "C-" grade on it. The reason is written in red pen, scrunched into the bottom corner of the first page. My entire essay was critically analyzed and summed up in two words:

       "Not realistic."

       When I presented it to the class, there was a mix of reactions. Although many public speakers yearn for a genuine reaction, none of the reactions to my work would be considered "ideal" or even "desirable." (1.) There were gasps and amazement at the vulgar language I used. While writing the essay, my passion must've made me forget to omit the curse words I usually shout in my head. I wrote my thoughts—that's all it was. (2.) There was laughing, and though laughing is a symbol of happiness, it can also be used mockingly against an enemy. So as everyone laughed at me, they made jokes to their adjacent neighbors, passed scornful notes, and even looked at me ready for the next outrageous claim I was about to make. Maybe they all just thought I was joking. I wasn't joking, though. (3.) Probably most expected, were looks of confusion. Eyes that squinted and heads that turned as if to ask, "What did he say?" "Did I hear that right?" These were the expressions I knew would occur and yet I wished them not to happen anyway. When you think differently, you're judged. Sometimes people want to understand the weird and unexplainable, such as aliens. If your imagination is uncreative and your logic provides doubts, you'll be unable to understand what you wish to comprehend. You will be confused. I don't blame the students who tried to understand what I said. I just wished they had tried harder.

       Moving on from that symbolic metaphor for misunderstood minds, I'd like to address what I said moments ago. "This is the end I've been waiting for. This is the end... isn't it?" After saying it and then reading it over, I'd like to make a huge revision. I would like to render my previous assumption obsolete. The correction I'm making is precisely the hopeless and torturous truth that: There is no end. There will never be an end. And for the people who will throw existentialism at me or strike me with their "death is an end" argument, I'd like to ask you a question: If death is the end of my misery, then why do so many people fear it? It's not the end of pain; it's the symbol of it.

       Imagine this: A new reality in which people's perception of life "flashing before your eyes" is a bit different. Would you entertain my theory for a minute? Good. No one else would. Especially not my class who I presented to. In this theoretical world, "life flashing before your eyes" alludes to the fact that a second before you die, your brain tries to save your life by creating the illusion of a new one. In that split second before death, your brain creates a luxurious world free of faults, that it allows you to live in indefinitely. Between that second before your death and ending with death's inevitable arrival, your mind places you in a dream-like world that seems to you like eternity, or another lifetime; years, centuries, but in reality, a mere second that is used as a shield from the terrifying arrival of death that meets you after your experience. Did you get what I said? Less than half of the class did.

       Anyway, I doubt you are, but if you're curious about the other thoughts I put into my presentation, whether because you're actually interested in my writings or because you simply want to know what confused my student peers, then I will provide you the satisfaction of those very details, (which I will now address). That theory about another spawned life before the instant of death came to me in a dream. I've started believing in my dreams.  I pay more attention to them, and as crazy as they are, they seem only to become more and more comprehensible. I understand them. When I focus on the constructed worlds of my dreams, I start to believe that I understand the world. That makes sense, doesn't it?

       I had another theory spawned from a dream. I was a fly; a small, winged insect, and a large human hand came down to crush me. I perceived the world differently, as I saw everything in slow motion. That's when the theory appeared in my mind. Maybe flies always escape our violent swings, always getting away at the last second right before we bat them with a piece of paper or a rolled-up magazine, not because they have faster reflexes, but rather because they perceive time differently. Maybe there are beings, primordial or mortal and present, that can see time differently than us. Like the fly, which I believe sees the world at a slower speed in perpetuity, and maybe that's why they die so quickly in a matter of days. Their world is so slow, that they age in the time that to them, is much longer than to us. They live in a different frame of time. They live in between seconds. That makes sense. I know that makes sense. It's not complicated. I see it so clearly.

        Do you get it now? Do you ư̴̧͈͚̫̟͖̮̖̏̃͛̾̍̑͐̀̽̎́͂́́̾̔͂͑͒͒̍̾͝͝n̷̠̖̤͖̞̟̦̟̉̉̿͊̃́̄̏̎̑̂̃̊̂͐͘̚d̸̨̨̞̭͈̦͇̟̯̮̩̹͎̮̜͇̗̟͎͉͕̳̲͑͛͆̑̄̉̇̂͑̕͜͜͠e̵̢̛̗̜͉̥̘̮̩̯̘̻̻͔̱͖̙̹̅̆̽͊̅̅̋̍̊̉̐́͗̇͜r̶̨̜̯̟̤͙͍͔͓̠̲͖̩͈̾̋͜͝ͅș̷̡̡̛̯̼̮̖͉̫͚̫͉͙̈́̿̄̂̆̂̍̉͑̅͛̍̄́͒̉͒̚̚͝ͅt̴̡̨̨̛̗̺̜̬a̶̧̨̢͎̣͔̘̺͕̹̪̥͉̜͎͕̩̝͕̲͚͎̼̮̯͋͆̑̏͗͛̈́̓͛̉͘͝ͅn̸̡̠̺̮̱̲͎͉̳͊̓̀̐͗̔̑̒̽ḑ̷̥̞̭̩͓͙̟̭̠͓̬̜̞̯̺͇͖͙̳̬̲͍̯͍͓͒͋͊̈̈́̌̄̎̈̾͐͂͒̈̕ͅ?̵̢̨̘̭̯͙̦͎̜̼͍͎̯̫̤̝̯̝̝́̊̓͌̐̔̐͐̏͌͐̑̐́͑͘̕͜͠͝ͅͅͅ