Nihilistic tendencies

It’s only recently, during hypnagogic states, that I hear people talk or whisper, and I see grotesque images in my head like I was part of a nasty film.

The scene starts with bleeding voodoo dolls looking like the drawing on KoЯn’s Issues CD-cover, except that the voodoo dolls are butchered. One looked like it had its throat slit; others had loose limbs. I’m not sure what that place is, but I’m scared, as it’s gradually dragging me into it as if I belonged there.

I don’t want to fall asleep. Instead of finding silence, I find myself in a noisy world that I deny. It’s not mine, and it’s not me. This mess makes my scalp bleed. Someone help me put gloves on before I go to sleep? The next thing is hearing movements in my neighbour’s room, although he’s currently away. Do you know that moment before you fall asleep? That very moment before you get carried away into dreamland… the conscious part of you is still awake, but it already hears music, voices, and movements that are in dreamland.

Very often, you get a couple of hypnic jerks, which don’t stop you from falling asleep, but to me, they are like a pinch in the body, as though signalling, “Don’t fall asleep yet!” I prefer it this way. I need this reminder that I am not falling. Literally.

Imagine I tell this to people! They’ll say, “What’s your drug?” I realised it’s easier to lie than telling the truth, which is “Tea and biscuits.” Instead, I say “Heroin” and show them the bruise on my vein, which I got from my most recent blood test. A big thank you to that rubbish female nurse causing that bruise. Male doctors, male mathematicians, male architects, and blind people have the most beautiful and skilful hands and wouldn’t bruise me like that. Anyhow, do I even look like I do drugs? It’s biscuits, hence the ugly thighs. Fat pads inside out. Would you contemplate smoking a cigarette instead of eating a biscuit? Which one is the evil temptation anyway? Or is temptation always evil? I don’t know.

Maybe I want neither and only wish to dance with Fred Astaire to Tom Waits’ Dead and Lovely. I want no temptation that would harm my organs and damage my self-esteem. Would Fred even like the music or even understand the sentiments expressed in that song? Or swap roles – dance with Tom Waits to Astaire’s Puttin’ on the ritz. No! What a ludicrous scene.

All answers are wrong. The building blocks of life are carbon and oxygen, they say. I’m not sure about that. I doubt the building of blocks and that they constitute anything. Something that came out of nothing ultimately is nothing.

Why would elements combine in the first place? Inborn characters that know their needs. If only all humans were like that, they’d be more determined creatures.

So what we pursue is where our heart is? No. Do we pursue something to feel alive? No.

Humanity is an undecided version of the Periodic Table. Our only aspiration is to become as perfect as our elements. Know our enemies, friends and family. The rest is merely untrue. I always wondered what distinguished us from everything else on earth. Undying love? I need more proof.

Why am I so nihilistic today?

Are my disturbing hypnagogic items the result of calcium and magnesium deficiency despite the high amount of fresh produce I eat? So the soul’s job is to look after the elements in your body…as if you haven’t already got enough problems.

My soul, my soul, Rene, touch my soul, “thought constitutes the nature of thinking substance.”

Who wouldn’t want thought to be a substance that you can touch?

Being human and beyond human – what’s the real thing?

Kiss me, and we shall find out. If our lips transport a spark, that’ll be the magic of matter, but what we feel inside is always a tricky one. Atoms would know immediately what the real deal is – we’re nowhere as perfect because we overthink, and questions lead us nowhere.

If ‘thought’ is more powerful than ‘matter,’ what am I going to do?

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