Sit here. Watch life speed past. Slowly, slowly. Move out of your lethargy. Let go of your useless knowledge. So you were taught to survive. Your existence reflects every spark that ever burnt. How little you realize your influence. They mirror your actions, your every word. The colours and shapes in my head translate to but a mediocre facsimile under my fingers. So much is lost in the translation from idea to matter. Plato pitched against Aristotle. Idea or Matter? Life moves on. A busy intersection, humanity floods the gates of its own creation. Stop, Look, Go. Spilling forth from every corner of the world, like insects crawling out of a crack in the wall. Show me what you’re made of.

Existence is an endless web, interwoven with shining lights. The diaphanous threads stretch into the dark, pulling everything to itself. A dangerous attraction that draws all matter to its core. What creature awaits at the centre? Which fear of yours will be realized?None.

Fear your cliches. Unique. How different will you be? Move away from the norm, step outside your safety so that they can shun you in peace. Weakness. Wear your heart on your sleeve. An open bowl of emotion. Let them take their drops of you. How little of you is left? Captured in the blink of an eye. Light pours through the crystal and that one drop of your essence is classified, categorised, neatly locked away in its little chamber. Left there for further examination. They will take you apart to your very particles of matter and then they analyse your component traces of being. What strains of life will they find in you next?

Novelty. It wears off soon enough. Your existence is wearing thin around the edges. Change, change! It’s time for a new you. Re-invent your soul. It’s that time of the year again. The world spins laboriously into the vastness and you step into a phone booth to alter your personality. What pretty butterfly emerges this time?


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