The earth is scorched and forsaken. You sit in your cubicle atop a frozen cloud pondering the state of mankind. Why did homo sapiens evolve to become alienated from life itself? Did it all start with a genetic disorder? An obsession with meaning and purpose. A dysfunction between what you are and what everything else is. Perhaps it is symptomatic of the fall. The higher you ascend, the more detached you become, but the closer you are to meaning… or so you think. It remains irreversible. Your eyes are hazy now as your thoughts visualize themselves: a traffic jam in the atmosphere as an entire race plunges into fire, just like in the books.
This fall is voluntary. This fall is a gift to the flames.
Recycle negative states and amplify positive ones. Elation and depression perpetually entwined in a bipolar dance. The spotlight expands and covers reality itself. Trapped inside one’s own interpretation. Gaze at the absurd. Forget and try once more. Wave as you exit the stage.
Between the borders, within the city, inside your home, inside your room, inside the codes and digits of virtual interaction you reside. You own that tiny space of distorted reality. It is yours to play with and control. Your brain is hooked up to the collective unconscious, filtering and manipulating archetypes. Your avatar remodels itself to suit the wishes and desires of the audience. We are the gods of our symbolic representation. What’s most real is virtual.
Reality is a simulation of something more sophisticated: ascension into ones and zeroes.
We worship what we create.
It seems like our progress is nothing but a gust of wind hurling us towards the cliff.
Apathy awaits at the bottom. To end all suffering. To wash away the psychological pain of living. Nothingness is bliss.