Are You Real?

Do you exist?

I can’t see you clearly. Are you testing me? Or is it me who is testing you? Why do I feel you? Should I believe in you? And if you don’t exist, then what am I? And if you don’t exist, then what is this writing? Is this a waste of time? Can you point me towards the direction of your existence?

Since I woke up in this world, there are so many invisible traits of you, everywhere. Such divine natural gravitational wave of magic. I have seen it around me, I have somehow understood it and how it was all made through a dream in a delusional mind, while being no one, while simply, accidentally, wishing for a better world.

Creativity is amazing. I see life like a beautiful painting. A masterpiece. It seems to shine before my eyes, and it blinds me, pushing me to ask unlimited questions and finding infinite corners to hide my mind away. Scattered like dust, or snowflakes. You have my brain spinning, turning from grey to pink. I always hated pink. It is a sense, within me… It dares me to see things in a different light. Where does this light come from? Sometimes I am just like an animal, without remorse. This is when I am happy, and feel pure.

Why is the universe so hard to understand? Many ask away, hoping to find the answer. I sometimes dream that I have the answer written in the old pages of insanity. Sometimes I take a peek, and it overwhelms me in a way that I feel as if I was being literally absorbed into a vortex. I see there different sides to a same painting. Sometimes, there is a hunger for validation, and we call this “evidence”.

Who are you?

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.