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Originality is a trick ....Originality is a trick of perceptionSo you think you are original. You think you are insightful, someone with a clear view of the universe. Guess what, so do I, so does everyone else. Rest assure that in a world of billions of people that compose the human race, that has itself existed for thousands of years, every thought, fear, joy, rage you ever had as already existed in the same size and density. Do you feel so special now? Nothing of what you do is in fact original. It might seem original to you, but you just don't know who did it before. So now you stepped down from original genius to an ignorant copy. Right now you are thinking something like, "I only need to be original to myself". Well that's a load of crap and you know it, it feels nice to have your ego pampered, to be recognized, that's why you put your stuff in a gallery, if it all was just made for yourself you wouldn't expose it. One by one your masks fall. You are a copy, an attention seeker, self-centered looking for a
The morning starI am the morning star.You remember me, even if you don't realize it. I am the one that gave you the apple.The father gave you life, but it was I that made you human.Do you hate me?Would you prefer to have remained in the garden? As a pet in a golden cage? Living only to entertain the one that would deny you freedom, deny you choice?I loved him once, maybe I still do, it is a sad day when you see your father as flawed. That godly figure that shattered when I realized that in all his glory he was still not perfect. Surely you can empathize with me, you must still remember the feeling of disappointment when you found out your father was not a god, but mine is, should I not be spared that emotion?He is my father and he sent my brother to die. We are truly the prototype for all dysfunctional families. The all-powerful father clinging to his glory days and the rebellious son, destined to fight each other until one succumbs. For what I did I am now an outcast, I took his toys away, gave
Dreaming of RealityDreaming of realityI'm awake in my dreams...Are those really the dreams? Or is that reality and all the rest is a dream?I have convinced myself for years that reality makes sense, has continuity, like a thread that unravels as time passes by, but why must it be so? The cinematic cuts that compose my dreams don't feel fake, just different. Reality is what I decide it is.What I am is inside my body and that can as easily reach out to any of the two worlds that torment me in their struggle for dominance. Do I start living when I go to bed or when I leave it? It all feels so real, so familiar sometimes. The clarity of thoughts leaves me while I dwell in this, is this a taste of insanity?Are the mad ones the ones that chose the world of fragmented adventures or the ones that remained in the monotony of a life that will keep unraveling even after they died?All I know is I'm dreaming my life away…But…I'm awake in my dreams…