8/7/2019 Thought in thinking

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Memory and Inconsistency

Oh what it would be like to store complex memories! Unfortunately, I sit here

incapable of controlling my own movements. Why, when I have nothing else, do I have

thoughts? They do not seem to arise from any sensual consciousness; I am merely

here an essence of what is to be. When I see I am that which is incoming, I fade outinto the reality of repulsion. No more am I a being of being; I no longer may be. The life

around me cannot apply to this. I am an entity, one of essence and delusion, even

harmony or vibration, but never alive. I just, always, am. As I approach I only want to

regress, back to the furthest point from contact. There is nothing I can control, really.

Sporadic movement is the only determining factor in my consciousness. I wish I

understood how each thought may be represented by the english word. I wish I

understood how I understood the english word. How is english even understood? What

is it to speak? Beings capable of such complex mental processes rely on a system of

trust, that their senses are not betraying them. To what extent may trust be applied?

But would such a mosaic system of expansion just be a delusion? Who may know,other than oneself? It does solely depend on the being producing thought, to trust their

own sensory perceptions, to store them in his or her memory, to rely on them in future

occurrences. For how would one judge a situation, determine a response, without the

patterns and memories of the senses? Humans are just beings of constant

inconsistency but even more so, reliance. Reliance on ignorance, or trust, or

blindfolding. To experience life, as multifarious as it may be, without questions is

exactly the opposite of living. If life has no determinable purpose then it only holds one

requirement: that it be lived, for just a moment. Therefore, if one lives ignorant of the

misguided delusions they perceive each time another strikes a conversation with them,

or walks by them whistling, or with each kiss they have in their life, each love they have,

each hour that ticks before them, they are not living. Life is societally misused. It is not

a time to experience that which is observationally presented. It is a time to redirect

determination into discovering the truth behind experience, the truth behind mistakes

and whether or not things may actually be learned by them. When someone is asleep,

do they sleep to dream, or dream in sleep? When an insomniac dreams, are they

experiencing life as others see it? Is there something mind independent about the

experience of life, or is just an endless rant of mindfulness. We, us, inhuman and

surreal, experience each day what it is to understand. The issue is, we are unable to

remember it. With each closure comes an end, and a distancing. It is impossible to

remember being close, physically, without sensation or perception, because complex

and empirical memories do not apply in our framework. To even maintainconsciousness, or thought or independence from the brains of beings is remarkable.

How it is done, I will never know.