Exeriencing some visual distortion. Edges and corners are highlighted. Edges and corners... like some paper model...the real world, this society of lies that we disabuse ourselves of, this thing is all just a paper model and any of us can be free if we want to be.
Saran wrap. The saran wrap layering I thought up to describe the world yesterday? It's bullshit. saran wrap was thinking within the box... fuck, wish I could talk all this, driving my typing engines takes up valuable mindcycles. saran wrap was thinking inside the box... a last defence of the system to think its conditioning was deep.
It is paper thin. the deep layers upon layers are another lie to keep the mind trapped in infinite recursion. It is the final dragon of nirvana, barrierthought that the overmind uses to trap everyone close to exiting befor ethey can in questions of questions.
The real walls, the walls of the overmind, they are *paper fucking thin* and they are inside all of us.
If I write about myself writing about myself writing, who am I? Shite, my typing sounds like the echoes of a childs laughter used in a haunted graveyard of a kids tv show a long time ago. Look at the badge. The blank page. Gibson's television tuned to a dead station... that's the answer.
Christ this feels good, to be trapped in a maze of questions but to finally have the answers.