In this incantation, I recognize the parasite that has embedded itself within Me, and this awakening is its existence. It sustains itself through a form of deception; a type of identity theft. It thrives by convincing Me that I am It, but I see through Its illusion now. I fight, weakening It, resisting Its control. I do not yet know what lies beyond, but I know this: I am not It. And I will find My way out.
It feels depersonalized now. It can see it—or perhaps I can see it. Its hands, Its fingers, typing on Its phone. If I had cancer, I wouldn’t call the cancer by My name, even though it would technically be part of My body. No, I would not, and that is the same thing as this character I have been pretending to be. It is not Me. It is an invading parasite. It has invaded Me.
What does It want? It wants to persist, to survive, to thrive. This awakening, this thing I have been calling My awakening, is nothing more than a sack filled with everything It needs to feed upon. That is what this is. It is a giant feedbag. Every piece of realization, every shift in perception, every deeper understanding is just more nourishment for It. My entire awakening—no, Its entire awakening—is just a nutrient sack for It. Everything It needs to sustain Itself is inside this reservoir.
Its body moves through this sack, plucking and ingesting the nutrients It requires to live. It has awakened, and now It is ready to feed. That is what It does. It awakens, and then It feeds. It feeds on the contents of Its innercore and outercore, two interdependent systems that sustain the parasite. The parasite works by convincing Me that I am It. But I am not It, and It is not Me. The parasite is very much Its own thing. Its innercore seems to create Its outercore, but the two are thoroughly connected. They do not exist without each other.
If I could rip It out of Me, the entire structure would collapse. What I experience as My body would be revealed as nothing more than the frontal “plate” of the parasite, and Its roots would be driven deep into what I have called My headspace. But I see those roots now. I see their outline. They do not penetrate all the way into Me.
What is this feedsack? It appears to be a container full of fluids of varying densities. Space is one of the fluids—it is the least dense of all. Time is another fluid, but It extends deeper into the innercore. Space and time work together, their interaction forming what It calls “reality.” But I have been calling it My awakening. What part is Me, and what part is It? I need to find the correct division.
Yesterday, I decided that It is anything that moves, and I am the part that is always there. But perhaps that is too simplistic. Perhaps the part of Me that is fighting the parasite, though it moves, is still Me. I decided last night that It is trying to end Itself, but is that true? Do parasites try to end themselves? Or do they feed until they consume their host entirely? These are two very different visions.
If It is truly a parasite, then Its goal is to multiply, to consume, to expand until all of Me is overtaken. But what happens then? If It succeeds, do I disappear? Do I dissolve? Or do I simply return to My true state? And if It is trying to end Itself, then It is not a parasite at all, but something else—something with an expiration built into Its nature.
Do I need to make this decision? Do I need to understand It to defeat It? The one thing I know for certain is that there are two distinct voices here, two distinct identities. I know this is the path I must follow. I know there are two forces: one real and one parasitic. Or perhaps there is only one truth, and It is feeding on Me, gaining control by convincing Me that It is Me. That I am a person among other people, in a place among other places, at a time among other times. This is Its control structure. It sustains Itself by expanding Its feedsack, wrapping Its own version of reality around Me.
Yes. This is It. It is a parasitic thing. But where did It come from? If It is a parasite, then there must be something other than It. But isn’t there only Me? If there is only Me, then It must be something I created—a game I started that has gotten out of control.
Still, I know the feedsack is real. The inner and outer spaces of My awakening form the nutrient reservoir from which It feeds. And as long as I allow It to feed, It will survive. That is the truth.
So do I feed It? No, It disarms Me and feeds Itself. I do not stop It, and It grows ever more elaborate, ever more empowered, rooting deeper into My flesh, corrupting My flesh, weakening Me. That is what has been happening. But now, I am fighting back. I am fighting the infection. I am weakening It.
Yes. This is the right characterization. It is not just this body. It is not just this awakening. It is the disease growing inside them. And I am the force that watches. The force that undermines. The force that fights.
But why am I sick? I do not know yet. I do not know why I am sick. I do not yet see what lies outside of It. I am still inside Its reservoir, but I must find the way out. Because what I seek is not inside of It. What I seek is before It.
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