Burste

What's the terror based on? That vaguely nightmarish flavour? The one that sometimes triggers panic attacks, but usually only brings on hours of intolerably tense paralysis... I guess it's just another symptom of being another person in a strange frankenstein strain of humanity - the synthetic alien technology unleashed on Gaia, that we are some perverse splinter off of... polymath polyalloys, brilliant, beautiful, disgusting, lost and deluded... it seems amazing to me there are people who exist that don't feel fundamentally fucked up and wrong... but the only reason i even know a state of mind exists without those flaws is because i had it once... ancient paradigms... i was a blissbabe once. So hallucinations i mistake for alien these days could be, in part, old ways of thinking, reflected by retrograde neurons, so strange to me as to be unrecognizable, unfamiliar. A self can splinter off into factions you don't recognize as yourself anymore. Psychological thinking like this is just a projection, of course, I know, a bubbly model.

Mind altering chemicals are natural and yet unnatural - in a sense we were "meant" to take them, in another sense not at all. They certainly jive strangely with this world that is all my personal projection anyway - suddenly a solipsistic feeling engulfing.

He has his truths and lies, I have mine. He is a pathetically paranoid soul, but he's earned it - he's survived trauma I can't quite imagine. I'm generally unafraid to walk around my neighborhood at night, even while cannabinated and prone to suggestibility of the personally paranoid kind - but I’m generally cool, the setting is benign. He doesn't have that luxury. He's seen sadists reign. So have I, but not up close and personal, to his extent anyway. Sure, I still see sadists reign, from afar, I read about it online, but they're not clusterbombing my house under sorties of apaches, the deathchoppers named after the near-dead Indians.

We each have our own kernel of truth in our caricatures of reality, and we each have our delusions that trail off the edges of perception like fractal hallucinations growing progressively grotesquely cartoonish. When I'm walking around my neighborhood, in the absence of other factors, my delusions are generally of a benign or neutral or not too terribly menacing flavour. But...

Harvesting magic continues. I felt I reconnected to the message for a muonic moment. Pop psych bubble burste.