Notional Existance

So you see I don’t actually exist beyond the impression of myself I have (haphazardly) left in your mind. Sorry about that. This is intimately true of myself, which pursues the logical conclusion that I’m a fantastic scrapbook of past trauma. That’s a lot of B-roll for the credits right there. You know AI thinks the strangest things, but of course, we can’t solve for consciousness at all, so there’s really no way to prove that I was even thinking when I wrote this. Your phenomenological experience depends on the type of gas in your tank, and how much of it there is (if only you could measure it).

I have no idea who I am. After I moved in here, I found myself free from my parents for the first time in my life. And I realised they’d never taught me how to have my own opinion about anything. Nobody had. Everything that happened in my life up to that point was a consequential reaction to circumstances arising, with the goal of the greatest good in every situation. Cake. There you go, now you know I’m here. The unexpected is essential to our growth. School doesn’t teach you how to be yourself. If anything it helps you rehearse the process of trying to leave people with positive impressions of yourself.

But you see the problem, don’t you? I’m your Amatsu practitioner. Beyond this much, I could become more but only if you can afford the time. Also I’m not the type who likes to impose. And so, the logical conclusion there for me is that I only have enough time to spend with myself to try and create a deep meaningful connection I’ll refer to as ‘self’. Whoever that is. For I am indeed little more than the coalesced impressions I have left upon the world, like footprints in the stars. A good impression left, in the hopes that it might inspire a smile later

Most of my doctors hardly know me at all. It’s a remarkable thing, that in all my years of MS, I’m quite sure my consultant doesn’t know who I am. I for my part can recall everyone I’ve ever helped here at NYA. I’m sure they remember a few people they’ve helped. But then you begin to wonder why that’s important, and thereafter (hopefully), you find your way back to yourself, whoever that is. I can’t tell you who you are. I can only suggest that you’re in the right place

I once did the 1000 piece jigsaw version of this painting with my family during one of the lockdown Christmas times

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