Our memories
I'm 1 or younger.
I'm lying in my crib.
I can't talk or even sit up.
I see my parents through the bars of the crib.
My father is very insisting with my mother.
She doesn't want him.
She looks at me.
He looks at me as if embarrassed, but thinks I don't understand anything.
I understood everything.
My mother was uncomfortable.
I had to help her.
I started crying, knowing that would be a reason for him to stop, and for her to get up.
I'm 6.
I'm in a dorm.
The only place I have to live.
The room is a bedroom, a living room, and a kitchen all at once.
I live with my mother.
New milennia is coming.
And this is far from the capital and big cities.
I put the knife on the windowsill.
I look at it.
I feel something.
I know.
And they don't.
I think THIS IS GOD.
I say (out loud): Please, raise the knife in the air, even if it's just for a second, no one will see, just prove to me that THIS IS REAL.
I want to know.
I have to.
I have to decide how to live my life.
To go down this path or not.
Or is it just my fantasy?
I'm 15.
I live in a cheap rental house.
My room has no windows.
A lightbulb hangs from the ceiling on a cord.
I sleep on the cheapest folding bed in the corner.
I walk 40 minutes to school in any weather.
But it's summer time now.
A drunken landlord came, smashed the refrigerator, ate raw eggs, and left.
I stood in the corner, thinking about how to defend if he tried to enter the house.
There was a poker and a pot of boiling water.
My mother and 1 y.o sister were in the house.
I'm playing Prototype video game.
Running and smashing things.
And people.
Feeling special, as always.
Feeling MYSELF.
Projecting school issues.
I'm playing at being important, better than others.
I pause the game.
I turn in my chair.
My perception shifts.
I realize that my personality doesn't even exist and I can become anyone.
That all human goals and objectives are just masks.
I could even become president.
It's simple: if you want to be president, act like a presidents act.
That same week, I had my second out-of-body experience.
I'm 30.
I'm sitting outdoors in the mountains in my house
Forced exile
Psychedelics
10 countries
20 cities
30 skills
40 lifestyles and masks
50 perception shifts
60 myths I created for myself
70 attempts to find others
but only books found
spiritual fermy paradox
I'm reflecting on perception and the remaining years, on the path.
I'm 99.999% sure THIS IS REAL.
But it's not God.
And it doesn't seem like there's any external force.
At least, it won't help.
At this stage.
I'm ...