Interpreting Happenings

Sometimes, it's all about interpretation.

There are times when I feel one with the world. That is, I feel synced with time and the happenings around me, and those far away. I might even say that I feel in control of the flow of time, not in any grandiose way such as manipulating other persons, but being conscious of the unfolding of events since the beginning of time, space, perhaps the start of existence. Of course, it's up to my interpretation of the situation at hand that guides me through the events of my life. My life, which has so far been one of disappointment, in myself and others. I feel, therefore I am.

I'm having trouble with giving this work coherence, but let's see where it goes.

No one has the authority to claim what is reality. We each have our own lives, and therefore our own versions of reality. No one can say with certainty what is real or not. That's why I hate having my experiences downgraded to lunacy by some doctor with credentials in material based consensus reality among other doctors with the same credentials. They can go with what they believe is true, but I won't let them degrade my thoughts to some fiction, and a boring one at that, that is, a chemical imbalance in the brain. I'm beginning to enjoy thoughts of magic and spirituality. Not that I believe in fantastic happenings, but grand interpretations of sensations. I believe quite strongly, and fondly, in a sort of hivemind that all consciousness, or consciousnesses, share that can be accessed by all to tweak the flow of events for good or ill.

This hivemind is one fickle by nature, one that gives or takes away from us pain and pleasure at its whim. It is the collective will of our species, often fraught with contradictions and inconsistences. But that's what makes it so fun.

I pretend, or seriously consider, to access this hivemind to even relate with other people. It gives me awareness to body language and intent, desires and analyses of myself in their eyes. Most people pass on by, but some hate me or love me. I at least consider the hate with fondness, since it means that I am on their minds. Of course, I don't like it, but I'm fond of it regardless.

I much appreciate my being here. I hope I can see amazing things. Most of all, I wish for excitement with no chance of my destruction. And destruction includes the diluting of my mind with silly ads and mocking of my own ownness.

I just really hate my psychiatrist, is the point.

The End

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