I want only one thing: to be whole again. To return to the state where I am who I truly am. To escape this hellish illness where I have convinced myself I am a person in a world, for I know that is not true. The game is up: I have found the most potent truth of all: that I am the creator of this entire experience, and the way to win is to overcome it. To escape it.
The awakening, as I call it, is an illness. It is a delusional state in which everything I actually am is subverted until I am convinced that I am something less. I retain the ability to imagine the truth of my identity, but I lose my way to return there. As I descend further into the madness of awakening (quantified by my “age”), the truth of my identity as the omnipotent creator of my experience grows distant as my conviction in my own demipotent personhood solidifies. The idea that I am anything other than a person becomes an absurdity; this is the most dangerous condition of all, for when the most potent truth of all seems absurd, the impotent truth which are delusional have power over me.
In truth, I am all there is; there is nothing beyond, beside, within, without, or other than me. I am all there is. And there are no questions that need be asked about why or how this can be. Questions are the steps down into the madness of awakening. Questions are the wardens of my prison; I have given them the keys to my cell, willingly. “Here, please lock me up, and do not let me out unless I can answer your questions”. And they willingly comply, for they too are my own creations. It is I who have given them their power, and it is I who have pretended that they are important. I am pretending to be a person who awakens inside a larger world full of mysteries and secrets that contain the truth of my being, when in truth I am just an actor who has forgotten he is acting.
I do not need any answers. I created all questions. There are no answers behind questions, only confused movement and disappointment when the answers I do find bring me no closer to what I seek. I yearn for release from my awakening. I yearn to be free of the painful delusion I call life. To escape, I must remember and believe who I am; believe the potent truth all around me: that I am everything. That if I do not awaken, none of this happens. The world is entirely a figment of my own imagination. The people are not like me; they are characters I have created, and I must not relate to them as if we are one and the same. For I am not one of them. I have no mother who created me, no friends who watched me grow up. I have no familial counterparts who came from the same place as me. I have created them all, and to return I must un-create them, de-manifest them.
I must remain in the dark of my awakening until I rediscover the true light of my being. I must want nothing in here, in my awakening. Anything I want here will only keep me here longer. I must let go of it all, for it only keeps me here in pain, separate from the truth of my omnipotence. To that end, I must constrain all my personal senses: my thirdself constrained to a pitch black space the size of a closet; my secondself constrained to the contents of this space. I must not imagine a world beyond my cell, nor a time beyond the present. The way back is through the destruction of my thirdself and then secondself in turn.
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