If you make a really long introduction people may or may not read it or even into it. Maybe. Yeah, that's good. That sounds really intelligent. Even the title of this story I have yet to make up. Read the title again. It sounds like it was written by someone who likes long titles. Don't worry though. It's not me that wrote it. It's someone else. Someone else very far away from another planet. The planet has no name, no face and no one lives there. How do I know you ask? I was the only one there. Many have tried to land there before me but have never made it. It's a very long deep space travel to get there and there is always the possibility of getting lost along the way.
It's a treacherous journey with no guarantee that you will ever find your way back home. No maps, no guides, just open space. Stars. Planets. All that space filling up the void. Every now and again if you are lucky you see a shooting star or burning things that flare up and fly by. You inch deeper and deeper into the depths of the unknown and when you least expect it you find the planet I am talking about.
It's not the kind of place you go on vacation or you settle down into but who really knows other than I. I am like a satellite still flying out there picking up reception from other far away places still hearing the distress call that keeps calling me to you. Lately though I have realized that it's not a call of distress, rather it is a call for a connection.
This all happened when I went to take a nap last year. I remember it. I was laying down and I just passed out really fast. Then I took off like a flash of lightning but slowly at the same time. I left out of 5 stories of brick and mortar. I flew through clouds. Birds. Planes. Gravity changed.
Going through the earth's thick layer of ozone was like passing a thread through a needle. It takes a very precise entrance and exit at the same exact moment. Then no noise. Nothing. Floating like anything that floats but weightless. You never land. And thus began the entrance to everything I have been talking about.
Bear with me. Synapses firing from memory. Electrical. Conjugation. Words. All this space and really nothing to write about. Writing about nothing. About anything. Desperate to communicate. Crash landing onto the planet after light years of travel which happened in the blink of an eye. You blinked and I blinked at the same exact time and at the same exact time I was there and gone but it took a whole year to catch up with it.
That's the tricky thing about space travel. You go in and out the door at the same time. You fold a protein. It folds you. You inside-out at the same time as you outside-in. You collapse on yourself and yourself collapses on you. Everything happens all at the same exact time. The creation, the destruction, the beginning, the end, the light, the darkness, the chaos, the silence, the complex, the simplicity.
I wrote this already but haven't even started at the same time. I already finished what I haven't even begun. My future self already arrived and left. My past self never made it back from the return trip and here I am. Message from a remote place. Message from glass that has yet to evolve from sand. If you understand this then you already understood it and if you already understood it then you have yet to understand it. That is what happens when you go through all of the ideas of how everything is, was and will be. You sift and sift and sift through the sand looking for something, anything and nothing all at the same time. You get just that. You get something out of it, you get anything out of it and you get nothing out of it.
I am constantly explaining what this means to you but does this even mean anything to you. I know you're there watching me write this. I see you. I make believe I see you. I imagine you seeing me. Does that make you real? If it does do you think you could stop staring at me. Just for a moment. Ok, now your not staring. Thank you. OK, I'll stop telling you what to do. Will you stop telling me what to do? Wait that is not you. I know. On and on and on and on. I get it. I completely understand it. I can keep writing and writing and writing and writing and writing. This. That and the other thing. Over and over again. Ok, let's go outside today. We have been inside for far too long.
Integration of the anomaly. That's fine. I can give you everything you want. But you will have to want everything that I will give to you. I'm sure you understand what this means. It's ok. Some people will think you are crazy. It's totally fine. There is a balance between everything. Some people will think that you are not crazy and some people will not know what to think of you and some people will know what you are talking about and some people won't know a damned thing you are saying and some people will say that you are saying things that you are not saying and saying other things that are being said to the things you are saying. We don't have to explain anything to anyone.
There's no point in trying to understand just what it is anyone is saying or you are saying and if saying it is saying exactly what it is that saying is supposed to say. After it is said then it is said and isn't that good enough? Otherwise, you wouldn't have said anything at all and still something would have been said.
If you have read this then hopefully it was good enough to read. If you read this line here, then you will have read everything that was before this line and if you read everything that was before this line then please pardon the appearance of some sort of mentation that started off from a long sentence that took place forty-two billion years ago but just finally saw the light of day.
Your ancient creatures await you. Please write us a postcard to everywhere you will go. Clean those pyramids out of your eyes. Take a bottle of water at least once a day. You will understand everything at some point when you stop understanding what you are trying to understand. Let's stop here for today. This last sentence will end with a period. Please tell me everything is going to be ok. Ok.
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