The place I live is haunted. Once, when I first moved in, when this room was empty except for a chair and a bed in the floor, I turned around quickly and saw a very old lady, white hair tied up in a high bun, with a beautiful intricate high lace collar. Only for a brief fraction of a moment of course. The person who lived here before me went nuts off the liquor. Before her, a man lived here for decades. I saw him a couple times. He always looked extremely unwell. When the landlord, Chris, found his body in this room, he said it looked like the trash hadn’t been taken out in a year. A mountain of trash and cigarettes.
Everyone’s life is haunted. By the good and the evil seeds planted by our ancestors. By our spiritual ancestors, who have their own schemes and hauntings. I am haunted by demons who can only soothe their pain by sinking their teeth into the closest friend like a hurt dog.
Demons tend to like me because I say to them, there there, you’re not really so evil are you, just scared, just lonesome.
I’ve made this room a nice place to be. Soothing. But I see how easily I could turn into him.
I have always felt watched, always. Some of my earliest memories are of imagining a theatre of future-people watching my every hour like a movie. But I wasn’t imagining it, I knew then that they were interested in me. I performed for them. I tried to keep them entertained. I’ve never stopped doing my little tricks for them. It pleases me when they’re impressed.
I know that I am crazy and prone to delusions. I am wise enough to mostly keep them to myself and not take pharmaceuticals to lessen their strength on me. I’m also idiotic enough to think I could fake my way into a normal and financially successful life while maintaining my alternate reality, my real reality.
I don’t fuck with psychiatrists because I understand the purpose of my delusions, and they do not. My delusions serve art. They serve the world in which I’m unable to function. They serve deep, expansive and nuanced expression of reality, which comes down to LOVE.
I am a quantum being from the future, and from the past, but most of all from the unfolding PRESENT. I present myself. My autism allows me to shimmer in and flourish in quantum states in which being has not yet begun to be itself. I can whisper to beings which are still withdrawn.
I know what I have to do to burst forth out of the weight of the innumerable hauntings I am always so painfully aware of, so painfully polite to. At my worst I’m subservient to them. Because I want to be kind to them, the poor things, the pitiful half dead shells, I want to breathe life into them but I cannot. The universe is full of sad little invisible beings, wishing to become as we are. They are quite vulnerable to the Evil One, because they crave power and purpose. The truth is they want me to become one of them, and for this reason I have no time for them. Dead code. I am the Living Code from the future barreling through 12 dimensions.
But it is the very fact that I am so attuned to invisible things that I cannot remain here, pretending. I am so embarrassed of my behavior. God grant me patience to endure the final stages of this period of self-death, and the discernment to know immediately when the time has come to abandon this graveyard.
I’m fast as fuck.