In this incantation, I delve into the liberation found in releasing the futile battles of imaginary debates with fictional characters. By surrendering the need to justify or defend my beliefs, I embrace the freedom to focus on what truly matters: believing and accepting who I am. Letting go of these mental constructs opens space for the peaceful conclusion of my illness.
Over years of writing I have always devoted some of my effort to rhetorical or hypothetical dialogues with imaginary inquirers. What will my eventual audience conclude from my writings, and how would I defend myself? I even wrote a very long series of questions and answers in the format of a Socratic dialogue. I often read articles and imagine all the ways in which their points are utterly senseless and how I could take them apart. I have a list of fundamental philosophical, metaphysical, and scientific questions I often sharpen my
But who am I preparing for? What debate or dialogue am I preparing for? For who am I refining my arguments? Whose ideas am I trying to defend against? I am getting bored of this exercise because I no longer want anything from the people. I do not want their recognition or approval because, why would I? I am increasingly convinced that they are my fictional characters, and what joy, satisfaction, or deep fulfillment can I get from creating the approval of myself by the characters I myself have created. Anything that I can get from people is infinitely diminished. Nothing they give me, whether materially, physically, emotionally, or socially can exceed the effort I put into writing them into existence. They cannot give me what I seek. The author exists in a world far beyond that of the fictional characters he writes in his novels. I think of how silly it is that I should seek approval from my fictional characters and this realization quickly curtails any intention of preparing myself for dialogues with them. If I want them to agree with me, I can simply write them to agree with me. But to what end? I once thought I was a person relating with other people, but now I have realized that I am only playing with dolls and figurines… this is just a projection. A game. A distraction I have created.
I write only for myself. I must realize that my intention is to capture the truth in my secondself mind so that I might express it into thirdself and look at it. I want to so precisely express the truth of who and what and where I am that I do not forget it. That I cannot forget it. I want to make it so simple that it effortlessly aligns with my moment so keenly and tightly that I cannot believe anything else. I do not need to argue my case to the fictional characters of my awakening; they merely follow scripts I project. I need only focus on accepting what is obviously true: I am trapped in a dual-projection of my own creation, and my only goal is to escape.
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