I think I am able to create, like I have chosen to experience everything, even the hardest of things. I chose to experience them. But I don’t think I created everything, you know. I don’t think I created myself from scratch. I also don’t think I created the universe and the people that surround me.

But it’s all contradictory, isn’t it?

For if I chose my own experience, that experience came with people. Therefore, I had chosen those people to be in my journey. If that was the case, then I had influenced others through my own consciousness, right? So if I had the ability to control a whole other being to be in my own experience, then I must have a power to create them as well, isn’t that right?

You can’t think about manifestation without thinking about other individuals who are manifestations themselves. It’s hard to understand this with our limited condition, which is human. There needs to be a higher source that allows us to co-create with.

Terms are so wrong and intertwined with each other. One cannot simply understand this, nor put a definite guide or interpretation to the matter.

How can I believe? How can I believe that I truly created everything in my life? I don’t quite believe it as I thought, and I don’t believe that I can create something extraordinary. But something believes inside of me. You understand?

A breakthrough always comes for me. Every time. Every single time. Some chaos comes before, but a breakthrough always comes.

The problem is that the breakthroughs stopped satisfying me. I don’t find it fulfilling any longer. The more I learn, the more I want more. It isn’t that I am greedy, but because my one true desire is never there. Fulfillment, that is.

Well maybe because you seek it from the outside instead of the inside.

How can I feel fulfilled? You’re asking me something beyond human condition. I don’t believe that a human can be happy just by being human.

I think it is the things beyond the realm of mortality that give us meaning, something to free us from the chains of absurdity. But absurdity always remains, because even as transcendental beings, repetitions fuel the grandeur of absurdity, which is bigger than the realms of mortality.

Anyway, what is there for me to realize exactly? And why do I resent accepting such truths if I believed them so much?

Because it contradicts everything I had ever learned as a human being.

I was taught to make a change in every way I possibly can. To be virtuous, to love, and in that love humanity shall rise.

Nevertheless, as a transcendental being, humanity may not exist at all. There is no good and bad, hence my virtue does not make a change.

I keep blaming myself for not being able to change, although I keep changing whether I liked it or not. I am never the same person, not even days apart.

All these questions arose from an accident I had while riding. I fell from my horse on my face, on my ass.

Thank you so much my sweet ass for protecting me from the fall.

If I am the universe as well as my own entity, then my body contains many entities working together for my own creation. My face, my eyes, my ears, my mouth. My stomach, every organ inside of me, my flesh. They are all there, existing just as I exist.

Just as they cannot be individuals without me, I cannot be complete without them.

I am saying that I am as important as my ass that took the fall instead of my spine and saved me from a broken back.

I am saying that every organ within functions on its own, yet connects to a larger program to serve a higher purpose, which is I. Me. To serve my existence.

I am the miniature of the universe, as well as the universe itself.

My hands write what my mind thinks. It isn’t I who comes out with these words. It isn’t I who tells my hands to write, they simply do.

By the orders of something I don’t recognize. The mind. But it doesn’t just think, it hides, it acts on its own, it connects to something beyond my flesh.

Consciousness.

My body does not belong to me, it merely coexists with me in this vast world. We both serve the same mission, that is existence.

I suppose there mustn’t be a reason for existence. Existence is the reason.

No matter how, no matter where, no matter when, existence is the purpose. One cannot refrain from existing, therefore, I had already achieved my life purpose, that is to exist.

Just as my heart beats until it stops, I live until I don’t. It matters not what I achieve during that life, because the mission had been completed.

There is no karma, only an eternity of experiences.

I don’t know if I shall have other lives, but I know that I shall always be alive. Energy cannot die, it merely transforms.

Of course it all seems foolish. Foolish enough to create a virtual purpose, a whole questioning of existence, whether it counts as existence or not.

That is where the term “death” appeared.

Duality.

I don’t believe this. I can never believe this in my right mind. But I do know it.

I know that I am eternal.

I know that I am beyond time and everything in life.

I know that I am life.

I cannot cease to exist.

What troubles me isn’t death, but what I choose to do with the time I was given.

Foolish, I know, but I did choose that.

And I don’t know when I will stop choosing it.

We’ll continue this later.