I exist too quietly

I’m scared my existence will pass me by.

That I will fall asleep, wake up in a dream and never remember to slip into reality again.

Things are just so trivial to me. I try to care, to care about grades, and clothes, and other tangible things. But it doesn’t happen and, when it does, it is with much difficulty.

I laugh when I realized I just forgot a pen to my final exam. And laugh at much more. Everything is absurd, everything is a joke, a badly narrated dream; or a beautifully wired delusion? Not sure.

I am too many people also, so I hold the responsibility to live out their dreams. The dreams of all these people in me. One wants to become a writer, the other, an artist. And the one who wants to remainĀ a child, what to do?

I face myself in that deep wine bottle, play around with the shapes the fluid forms, and dance around the scent of its contained truths.

To live more? To live… louder?

To sing a more popular song? A catchier song, lyrics that they will all know — and sing along.
Or to continuing dreaming to silence? Silence only I can hear, and enjoy, and fold it and carry it with me wherever I go.



What I would give for a quieter life, a life to suit the me inside. (or the me I think I know)

The life that resembled a forever blank canvas, filled with space for improvisation. A welcoming canvas, so I could paint with my fingers without having to wash them off.

What I would give.

(but that’s not the path the gods have chosen)




This god Delusion, Part I

That I am not a fan of the human species comes as no surprise.

Recently, however, I’ve been watching my thoughts think, and been trying to figure out what is it exactly that stops me from joining the bandwagon of being human. Amongst many things that came up, there was one that my brain automatically highlighted: this desire to be god-like.

One would think that after wars, death, starvation, poverty (etc), the human species would be humbled. Still, it seems that such “casualties” don’t stay in the way of “progress”.

Mercantilistic minds seem to govern our daily experiences. Some sort of superiority complex that I fail to grasp: testing lab rats for primarily human benefits, for testing on humans would be a violation of multiple universal rights.

What of other creatures? Oh but such thoughts don’t cross my mind. I, human, strive for survival. My survival. For the very epitome of progress, of evolution, can only be translated in the human species. Consciousness, human consciousness, because non-human consciousness is looked upon with too much scepticism. Who, other than humans, would enjoy the fruits of having a conscious?

Rationality, for such logic drives the universe. The perfect catalyst for power. Power, for we were born to be in charge of all nature’s creatures.

All academia comes in songs of conquest. All studies concerned with what’s around us, and how can we best manipulate it?

Omniscience, this unexplainable desire to know everything, and to acquire knowledge and shatter ignorance. For knowledge is a weapon, and only wisdom is capable of nullifying its’ cancerous bullets.

But maybe I’ve become too pessimistic. Too nihilistic for a young human such as myself. Human beings are good. Of course we are good. We help the blind lady cross the streets. Sometimes.

And because we are so good, it would be a terrible loss for us to die. For this, by 2045, we shall be able to upload our consciousness onto avatars. Yes, it is actually a thing.

For our presence in the universe is a need, a must(?).

We shall forever live, we shall, like gods, conquer death, and, finally, rule over everything.


1. The 2045 Project, headed by Russia, with the help of neuroscience, hopes to be able to further human existence by operating on human consciousness.