The Vessel of Thought

Recently I cower in fear of my anxiety, it's almost as if the anxiety is a lie and it's just a basic instinct inside of me begging to unfold. I’ve always been a very social person, not popular in any means, but social to the point where I do my best to never be alone. Being alone is a dark thing in my opinion, my mind wanders and I begin to think, far past the limit where thinking is acceptable. It's like wandering in a cavern you know so well and taking a wrong turn. The area you have entered is full of questions that could break a man down to his core in fear.
Recently, I have been dwelling on the subject of existence, as in the only thing you truly know exists is the vessel deep within you that lets you think. For all you know your siblings, parents, neighbors, or friends don’t truly exist and that they are all creations that the vessel that allows you to think has created. Possibly for comfort, or maybe to stop you from thinking these dark thoughts, maybe to stop you from thinking about existence. For all you know, you are deep within a simulation of the walking existence you believe in. Perhaps it is a test and death is not death but the awakening into the real world.
Everything seems to be off lately, when I bring up this subject it's as if the “people” surrounding me seem to shut the thought down as if they are trying to get me to stop thinking. It's like I am trapped in this world of non existence and the “people” don’t want me to know that they don’t truly exist. It's why I stopped seeing people... it's why they took me away and placed me in this cell. Little do they know it only helps me think more, it only helps me break down the evidence of the fact that I am trapped in a simulation and that nothing truly exists accept for the vessel.
I only killed those people to prove a point, I needed to see inside of them, to prove they are not real. But they, the “people” are always one step ahead of me... I know they placed organs inside of the people to convince me they were once living beings. I can't escape but I know the truth. And now you, the “person” who will soon enter my padded cell, will know the truth. I am now feeling faint from the amount of blood I have drawn from myself to write this note. Maybe now I will see the truth...
Category:Theory
Category:Mental Illness