Rush

You get to a point sometime, somewhere when you realize suddenly and unexpectedly that almost all your life you were doing nothing… Nothing, and yet if you really want to, or you need to in a few days you can accomplish so much. Then the obvious question rises: Where you would be if your entire life, or most of it, you were doing the things you have done in the past few days? How many things and how much would have you got to know and understand?

            Of course that is plain stupid. The things that make existing worth the bother are perspectives… I’m not talking about the bullshit like “I wouldn’t change a thing in my past because all that made me me, or thought me something”. This is not about learning, or becoming something that you think you are, this all about experiencing your existence.

            For the past two days my brain was in … another state. One that I have never knew it existed. Tons of information converging to be stretched and cut up to a new billion of pieces then those pieces reassembled to create a new piece of information, a new idea being brought to life. All this was happening in every single moment of the day, old information plus new incoming information from the senses all dancing to create something new. I found that very interesting, and at moments it gave me a sense of euphoria. I couldn’t sleep, and even though I had only had 3-4 hours of sleep per night, I didn’t feel tired the next day. Adrenaline I think …

            But somehow, somewhere deep in my mind, the Me who isn’t Me, gave this command because it knew that this has a purpose… and after the event that triggered all this had passed the Me who isn’t Me took its gift back…

            It was like I was on Speed… but more. Every thing that I have experienced until that moment was so clear to me like it had happened a few seconds ago. I could remember events from my childhood so clearly that I could almost re-live them. I remembered things that I had forgotten, or wanted to forget. And even my so called bad experiences were not seeming so bad thinking in retrospective, not because they were re-judged but because the classification in good or bad seemed so pointless… They were only other perspectives, other states of mind that showed me other universes of Me…

            I liked that, I wouldn’t want to live in a perpetual state of that but I would like to be able to relive it someday somewhere.

            Not that I’m going to praise myself or anything but I kind of like the fact that sometimes I can be not me, and that Me is not a constant…