From The Solipsist

You are not real.

You are merely a piece of my mind.

A piece of me.

You are a fragment of my imagination to replace the loneliness that has befallen my individual character.

My mind is the writer, my body the protagonist.

When I move forward, the world before me is drawn, creating intricate and detailed pathways to the horizon.

I do not look back, for there is nothing to see. Only that which is before me is visible.

When I look right, the right is created.

When I turn left, the left has been formed.

Every object you touch, every word you say, thing you taste, hear, or smell, every action you imagine or carry out, every emotion you feel, or movement you make, every thought you have on even this very subject comes through me.

I have touched it, said it, tasted it, heard it, smelled it, done it, felt it, moved it, thought it. I have done it all. I have completed each task because you have, and you are a piece of me. A work of art by mine own hand. A fragment of fiction to be molded around my character.

All it takes is simple observation of yourself at this moment.

You are here now, reading these very words which I have written for you, miraculously placed before you came upon them.

How did you get here?
I brought you here.

Why are you here?
I wanted you to be.

You are not real.

Disappear

 What would happen if you disappeared?

 

Nothing supernatural or illegal, just simply moving along through life, taking a new path, and finding a new identity. 

It’s easier than you think.

"Don’t tell" Noah Calvani

We view ourselves as members of a community, comparing one another and classifying each other based on social standards and relationships. These characteristics are then passed on, through generations and groups, expanding our being. We influence others with this, creating friends and followers. Relationships are formed with those we grow beside. The people we learn and prosper with are important, as we can compare them to us with their similarities in background and homeland. We love the attention, the popularity, the fame we gain from this. We thrive on the connections and input others give, in turn influencing and changing us.

But what if it all disappeared?

 

What if everyone you knew suddenly wasn’t present any longer? What if every relationship you spent years forming suddenly vanished, never to be continued?

The reality is, after so many years, you will be forgotten. Your name may remain, perhaps things you did will be honored, but you, your very being, will soon be lost, just as in death. In fact, many will consider you dead, putting their faith in your well-being within the afterlife, when in fact you are in another town, city, state, country.

Don’t tell anyone where you came from. Don’t give recognition or attention to your new self.

Think of the time you spent to destroy evidence of the past, evidence of you, evidence of the time before. Consider the consequences of revealing the truth, the truth that you are not truly you, just another. Created from your imagination. Pieces from many put together.

A collage of personalities and characters.

Take advantage of this new beginning, and truly start over. Try new things and believe in the opposite. Experiment with the boundaries of humanity, the boundaries of yourself. Attempt what you wouldn’t before, because last case scenario, you can just disappear.

It’s easier than you think.

Words

       A word that in itself describes our entire basis of communication.

       A word that describes itself and all others like it. A word that describes love, hate, survival, death, and everything in between.

A simple sound. A movement of the lips and pressing of the tongue, said differently across the world, but meaning the same thing: everything.

       Without words, the world would not be the same. People would be separate. People would not agree, collaborate or befriend. People would not communicate because they would not know.

Sure, there is sign language, absolutely things can be interpreted without being said. But in truth, words have been the saving grace of human contact, allowing the personal touch of one’s voice combining with another.
       Perhaps words have been the greatest invention by man, allowing him to speak with another of equal intelligence, forming a being between them of twice the knowledge. Within that being, all of the answers are held as each human being holds precisely half of all knowledge within their mind. With this full knowledge, we can accomplish many things for our people. We can learn to survive as a family, as a community, as a nation. With a collaboration of words we may discover the far reaches of reality and inhabit the edges of the world as our single-minded people grow in population, expanding our knowledge and spreading what we’ve mastered to those less fortunate and previously unable to gain the power of speech. With our growing family, we may move on to other worlds, building spaceships and military weaponry on the basis of rivalry. Rivalry due to communication, or lack thereof. While words have gotten us further than any have imagined, we must consider the toll it has taken on us. The deaths, the disasters, the misinterpretations.

"Bathroom Words" Noah Calvani

       Perhaps words have been the greatest failure mankind has ever fallen into, never able to free ourselves of another's thoughts and ideas. Without words, we are uninfluenced by those around us, unclouded by the worry and success of our neighbor. Uninterested in judgment and hatred from our enemy. No words can describe how unbelievably happy we would be in our simplicity. In our blindness. Some say ignorance is bliss, and it very well may be, but then again, those are just words. Words used to describe a world that we do not live in. A world that we have chosen not to understand.

       With a lack of communication, we are purely us. We are each individual, and with that, we hold half of all knowledge, more than enough for one human to contently survive.

We do not need all of the answers. We do not need to be together. We were born as an individual and we will die as so. But if we have chosen to live as one people. To survive as a family unit, and die in each other’s arms, we require a special bond. A secure language. A way of communication. A simple sound. A movement of the lips and pressing of the tongue, said differently across the world, but meaning the same thing: everything.

Words.

Abstraction

The house stands in the center of a field.

The building is painted yellow, chipping and peeling in places, revealing the black tar that coats the wood paneling. The entrance, always ajar, sits wide and gaping, its door completely removed. No hinges of the past remain; no door-frame is left resembling the once closed passageway.

Peering within this open space, a kitchen sits tidy and clean, unused but awaiting occupancy. A pink topped table stands alone in the center of the kitchen, uncluttered by dishware or chairs. A small brown box sits atop the table, perfectly placed. Two strings emerge from tiny holes in the box. The wire is thin but strong, tightly wound and taught with unknown weight at the other end.

The first wire stretches straight as an arrow, exiting the doorway and traveling into the golden tall grass which so clutters the field as hair inhabits a head. At the end of the wire, a dog sits, tied at its neck, ceasing its ability to progress further into the field, further into the world. It stares outward with dim eyes, focused on the far expanses of reality, back turned to the house from whence it inevitably came.

The second wire is loose, snaking out of the doorway on the ground and slithering through the grass. The end of the wire meets the center of a tree. It seems to enter the tall, leafy beast and end within its trunk. The string is lost in the fibrous flesh of a citizen from the forest.

Time stands still within this scene. Nothing changes, nothing progresses. The dog is happy in its quest for boundary. The tree is proud to be connected with civilization. The doorway is anxious and always open, awaiting new company.

The house stands in the center of the field.