Diary of me
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2022-12-27 09:47:29 (UTC)

You do not want. Well...

I always feel like I'm reliving my life many times every time. It's like a looping process. I get obsessive deja vu. I made a certain assumption for myself that after death, our memory and energy or soul, or whatever it is called, remains like an empty blank, like an audio cassette on which the song was erased and a new one was recorded, but the old record sometimes quietly sounds along with the new one. Now imagine that this is a human brain in which you erased all memory and began to write down a new one, but fragments of that old memory break through the new one, in the form of images. At first I met the same people, but unfortunately only their memories when they had just recently left our world. By the way, most often they turned out to be insane and very controversial but truly brilliant people. And he (well, or you, if you are reading this) is one of those who, like me, retained their common sense, well, or at least not as crazy as the rest. And then madness came for him (you), some strange force prevents us from remembering something. Something very important, something that connects us. It always looks like an accident or a late discovery, but there is always a feeling of "yes! that's them!". We are strangers in this world. Something pushed us in here, like we don't fit in this world. Yes, we can do something among people, but we will never be taken seriously. The same fuse will always work, which will protect our thoughts from them and even ourselves from the same as we are. Really this time I will see how another one drowned in madness without trying to understand, at least to put together a few pieces of this puzzle. It's a pity. I'm a tough motherfucker, I don't know why. Maybe I really didn't want to die there? But you're not ready, or you're already so fucked up that you don't understand, I'm also to blame for this, but you've planned very bad things, our war will continue until you really learn to co-create. There are too many coincidences, too many white spots in this story for it to be just an accident, and you and I know that accidents are very, very rare.