I went out for a walk last night, by Dominick

"Is everything okay Dominick? I think I'm justified in asking this. I mean, you're going out for a walk at 11 pm at night. I know you've been off your meds for a week now...is everything okay?" "Yes. I just want to go for a walk". "Okay, you can take my walking stick". "Ok"

Pace towards my car, turn key, turn key again, retrieve stolen Chesterfields and matches, light the cigarette of satisfaction. Now. Consciousness is entirely subjective. When you start to analyze it thoroughly enough it starts to become extremely murky. When you analyze your own thoughts to the point where you know your unconscious motivation for everything (or you think you do) everything just goes to shit. Depersonalization is no longer an option. Even though I have found a way to repress my normal fears and insecurities to a point where my forehead becomes numb and I am a functional zombie, I am reminded of one of the 14 precepts of engaged Buddhism. It states that if something is giving you the illusion of pleasure, ask yourself if you can keep it up for 14 days or so. I decided I couldn't, since my nerve endings in my amygdala were probably dying. I think I stumbled upon a secret only sufferers of sexual abuse know: if you ignore and concentrate on the fact that "this isn't happening" your emotions will vanish for about a half a day or so. Frightening to say the least.

That way is not an option. I mused upon the possibility that perhaps that is what everyone does to function in normal society, and that that is merely the repression of our "shadow". If living is really that hard and zombie-ing, count me out. I've come to terms with the fact that I can think anything I want and I wont lose my identity or have an out of body experience again. I can safely say to myself that God and atheism are both great lies and we might be living in a world of our own creation. I light another cigarette.

Go to the bench. Start to meditate. "Now you will feel the muscles in your back start to relax" "Take deeper breaths". "The calming desert". Head bobs downward, basketballs bouncing to my right. It was nice.

I start to realize that whenever I grasp something it becomes elusive. I discover that I have the potential to be a chemist. I no longer care about it. I discover that journalism would be a good fit for me, I heavily imagine myself as a journalist to the point where it no longer seems interesting. I think I've tried out all of the forms of consciousness one can impart on oneself without the use of drugs. They are all contradictory. I am reminded of the homeless person I saw walking around work last night. He had headphones on, smoking a cigarette, and was on a bike.

Freedom.