Solipsist on the lips that insist

Because I am a dying man, my life finite, my energy states infinitely remixed, I am not.

We seek fortune in fortunate times, inopportune times and impermanence.

For some reason I cannot fathom, I am alive, an entity diverted from procreativity to accumulate meanings, multiple meanings, in symbols, grouping sets and subsets with no meaning.


I am not a hard worker.

I am not a physical labourer.

I am because I have not chosen not to be.

There is enough space between me and my social connections that I can rarely talk to people in hours-long stretches but still feel socially viable, socially aware, socially engaged via virtual bonds.

I can listen to the unspoken communication/body language and not respond.

Somewhere in my thought patterns is a phrase, “I don’t care,” that tells me most social interactions are unnecessary.

I can give myself over to small talk when I want but find I’ve lost time, broken an internal conversation with myself that was planning out a new storyline.

Living inside my imagination where all around me is antiquated, quaint, nostalgic, is most often surreal but it’s what I have.

Such is the life of a solipsist.

A defense mechanism from childhood, perhaps?

Who knows.

I gave up analysing why a long time ago and went with the stronger feelings of my inner world, less and less interested in the day-to-day competition of members of my species for resources in the environment against/for other species in their local ecosystem.

If I’m going to die alone, my last thoughts unspoken, why not live the same way?

I need convince no one else my inner world is more exciting than their exciting imagination they’ve yet to discover.

My inner world needs no nourishment, no commercialisation.

My inner world knows no timeline, so it bounces from one thought set in historic placement to another without regard for logic.

I spend many hours a day lost in my inner world, sitting here occasionally to ask myself, to verify to myself, which is more real.

One day I might lose the distinction and babble on about a place and time that has never existed outside my thoughts.

Like melted wax, the two realities are fusing.

If you can’t tell when I’m talking about one or the other, that’s okay.

I look forward to that day.

Now, I sail into the sunset and dream within my inner world where everything is connected and we’ve stopped using labels like trees, animals and people to separate the components, the networked states of energy, that make us the temporary states of energy we once called ourselves “human.”

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