Point of Coincidence

Reality, non-existent except in the mind which defines it. A definition of the world derived from "norms" which differ from individual to individual. Differ so greatly that in effect that every being exists in their own separate world, the rules that govern it totally different from those that govern the world of another.

The world in which we interact with one another is then no more than a point of coincidence, where enough of the rules which govern your reality overlap with those that govern mine, allowing us to temporarily connect over the mental distance that divides your world from mine. Creating a false sense that other sentient beings live along side us in our reality, tricking our fragile minds into believing that we are not alone. And yet we feel so alone, we scream for rescue in our point of coincidence yet ignore each others plea, for to acknowledge it would be to admit that there is a distance, to admit that we are alone.

And so we traverse along from coinciding moment to moment, touching for a second, digressing again the next. A point of coincidence, a moment in which reality is real.

-redbishopii

I feel like being a god right now,
I feel like dying.

-redbishopii

Awake

Awake. Hair like a wig left on spin cycle for too long, lips, a cracked and bleeding desert. Head pounding like Native American drums beseeching the spirits before a war. Stumble out of bed into the shower, scalding water hammering down, like the vengeful tears of an industrial acid rain ripping from the land everything organic.

The drums go on and on only the palpitations of the heart are louder. Shower ceased, a rough and unforgiving towel and stumble back bed. A modicum of decency, a few pieces of clothing, stagger down the hall in search of sustenance. Lack of appetite sated, collapse and dream the convoluted images of the drugged and dying.

And still the drums go on.
-redbishopii

Dream

Growing up the people around us inspire us to dream about the future. The very world emits a keening cry stirring our blood and awakening our souls. Yet as we grow older those who once emphasized the importance of our dreams for our respective futures begin to say just the opposite. We are told to grow up, face reality, get real. To lay aside our fantasies and deal with the cold hard facts at hand.

This we cannot do, our dreams are all we have without them there is no power, no hope, no joy, no love. If our dreams are better than the reality professed by the multitude as real then why should we sacrifice them. By laying aside the dream for some cold and lifeless reality we make the greatest mistake possible, we relegate ourselves to completely mortal, lackluster lives.





Reality is defined by the individual, by accepting another's reality we deny ourselves the most important aspect of our lives.


Why should we heed the call of humans over the call of the world, which never ceases in its desperate cry for us to dream unending, to rip and tear the fabric and reform it in a better image.


How can we deny the world which is our life's blood, our mother and father, our home.


Reality is what we make it, what will you make yours?

-redbishopii

A Measure in Meh

We are a measure in meh. Tired of who we are and where we find ourselves, we take no action, resigning our existence. The power to change lies at our fingertips yet we refrain from reaching for it. So afraid of what we might become, of what we could be that we'd rather sit here and stagnate. Afraid of change, of uncertainty we let it rule our lives penning us in this cage of meh.

So we are depressed we feel forsaken, but who forsook us except ourselves? Our potential scares us to a degree we deem incompatible with our continued comfort. But what would we rather have comfort or something worth living for?

Our greatest failure will be our greatest triumph. When we fail to adhere to the acceptable, a norm we ourselves defined, we shall free ourselves, falling into an uncertain, yet interesting future. A future which will make us live. Gone will be the complacency, gone the blatant lack of a damn which permeates every level of our being at this moment.

How do we spur ourselves to stop? How do we begin to cease? We are humanity and we are our greatest stumbling block and our own salvation. Where do we go from here? Where do we go from here? Burn out brighter than we ever have before, implode. A supernova of awareness, to jar humanity from its apathetic contentedness before we lose our sentience.
-redbishopii

Irreversibly Right

Have you ever experienced a moment were everything, every single thing, felt completely and totally right? As if the world were in perfect order at that instant and the trajectory of every atom was aiming for exactly where it should.

These moments last for a millisecond, a minute, a day, a year, there is no set time, just a happening. They are the only true peace I have ever found in this world. They have no definite cause, no reason for their occurrence, no logical or methodical explanation.

Maybe its just the right combination of chemicals in the brain going "Wheeeee!" Though rare, they allow continuance of whatever this life is.

-redbishopii

This Destiny

This lack of purpose nearly is a purpose, at the very least it creates one. If the sole reason for being is to be for being's sake then what is there to stop anyone? I think therefore I am, I am therefore I continue.

I continue in this never ending collage of life, perhaps that is the only destiny of any creature, to be. Maybe then, everything we invent is merely our way of achieving that destiny, while still refuting its existence.

Maybe its all a lie, but that really wouldn't be a deviation from the norm.

-redbishopii