Perhaps life isn't real is a frequent concern of mine.

I'm in a coma or asleep. I'm frozen in a moment in time.

The fear is overwhelming and terrifying. I lie awake at night.

Occasionally though, it comforts me. I fall asleep and take flight.

When my anxiety gets too much, I am comforted by the idea that I can control what will happen next.

Don't get too fixated on the rhyme scheme, by the way. It will go away shortly in this piece of nonsensical text.


I see myself. I zoom out from my usual perspective as if my field of view suddenly comes from within a control centre behind the glass windows to this shell I control.

I watch my thumbs as I realise I am not controlling their future but rather witnessing their past. I am an idle observer watching actions I cannot prevent or control. I've already made all my choices, and now I simply experience the consequences.




Don't fall into this hole.

Sometimes I like the belief that I control the future. The idea that my thoughts become a reality. What I find peaceful about that notion is that I have no control and no need to worry if false, or whatever future I want and with no need to worry if true. I just don't want to have to worry anymore. Pain, stress, and fear-free, happy and healthy for eternity. The only thing I have to do is be patient, positive, and poised.


Maybe not poised, but society tells me I have to write a rule of three, and I suspect extra points for alliteration. After writing them, would you believe I looked up both "poised" and "alliteration"? I didn't know the definition of poised and wasn't sure if alliteration was what I thought it was.

I have no clue about these things. Still, I have the audacity to consider myself a writer?

I possess no knowledge of verbs, adjectives, or nouns. Still, I possess the gall to assume authority on the correctness of my linguistic creations?

I lack academic qualifications. Still, I do not lack the temerity to reject your conventions and suggest there is no 'correct' way to format art?

I am free. Still, I will battle with the temptation to put this through Grammarly and try to appease an artificial intelligence's idea of human regulation, hoping that my arrangements of words will be applauded.

How pathetic that books exist teaching you to rewrite your story to make it more appealing to audiences who have been conditioned to only find stories interesting when they follow the format all stories have been told to follow.

Just write your story.

Stop agonising over acts and circles and arches.

I don't understand how there is a 'correct' way to capture a photograph. Surely the only correct way is to capture a photograph? What's captured is what's captured. If it fails to conform to technical and aesthetic perfection, so what? Standards are only standards because people agree so. Let's change some.

I'm anticipating specific individuals at this point discovering the urge to point out that there are many 'correct' and 'standard' approaches recognised by different authorities, which conveniently align with a class system.

My argument is the bigger picture.

Awards are a joke, a group of people who think there's a 'perfect' way to do something, patting each other on the back for falling in line and following the norm they each uphold.




Unclench and take control.

I'm not even sure I believe myself.

The comfort that life may be a dream brings is the luxury of control: if you're worrying, fearing, panicking, or superfluously implementing synonyms, please try to stop; you're bringing that to your life.

Be positive. Be happy. Be successful by your own definition of success. Be a monotonous passage. See the future you want, and get it. Project and control it.

Maybe people find that comfort in religion, a plan made by a deity enabling them to relax and enjoy what's in store. That must be such a calm and happy life, knowing undoubtedly you're in good hands.

I am sincerely curious to explore religion. I'm clearly looking for something. I hope to meet some people who can introduce me to their faith.

Does religion gift you the sensation of sitting back into the control centre behind your eyes and witnessing life as already lived? With no significant control?

I think I'd like that and dislike it also. I'm conflicted about this.

Perhaps it's my mental health issues.

Perhaps it's my physical health issues.

Perhaps neither.

Perhaps all of this is nonsense.

Perhaps all of this is art.

Perhaps neither.


SplitiPhone 13 Pro

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