Yeah, and each of those shapes is an infinite recursion of all of the other shapes. Colorful, too.
Oh, and I was basically a marble, rolling off of the surface of a table. But that table was actually the world, and the surface was like a TV screen, but was actually the lens of perception through which I ordinarily view the world.
And then after rolling over the ledge, I blasted out of the world into the abyss, and looking back at the world it was really a big wheel of fortune where each slot was actually a different world. But it wasn’t a circle, it was a sphere, and covered in a honeycomb pattern.
And then I sailed across the abyss and witnessed the light on the other side. But I was afraid that if I got too close, I would be pulled in by gravity and never make it back to the world I left. But the world I left was simultaneously a dream that I had awoken from and a play that had ended. There was no going back, because it was never real. And that made me profoundly sad.
But in that moment, I missed my mom, so instead of entering the light, I went back to the world I came from. Even if everyone in it was just a figment of my imagination, and even if it’s not the same world because the likelihood of re-entering through the same cell of the wheel was slim to none. But I did it anyway, because my attachment to the world was too strong to abandon it.
And then I spent years systematically destroying my life in an attempt to break my attachment so that next time I wouldn’t turn back.
Salvia was the most unpleasant drug experience of my life. I felt my face become just a collection of abstract shapes
Yeah, and each of those shapes is an infinite recursion of all of the other shapes. Colorful, too.
Oh, and I was basically a marble, rolling off of the surface of a table. But that table was actually the world, and the surface was like a TV screen, but was actually the lens of perception through which I ordinarily view the world.
And then after rolling over the ledge, I blasted out of the world into the abyss, and looking back at the world it was really a big wheel of fortune where each slot was actually a different world. But it wasn’t a circle, it was a sphere, and covered in a honeycomb pattern.
And then I sailed across the abyss and witnessed the light on the other side. But I was afraid that if I got too close, I would be pulled in by gravity and never make it back to the world I left. But the world I left was simultaneously a dream that I had awoken from and a play that had ended. There was no going back, because it was never real. And that made me profoundly sad.
But in that moment, I missed my mom, so instead of entering the light, I went back to the world I came from. Even if everyone in it was just a figment of my imagination, and even if it’s not the same world because the likelihood of re-entering through the same cell of the wheel was slim to none. But I did it anyway, because my attachment to the world was too strong to abandon it.
And then I spent years systematically destroying my life in an attempt to break my attachment so that next time I wouldn’t turn back.
It, uh… wasn’t healthy…