Morpheuz
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Posted - 2016.02.17 07:57:00 -
[1] - Quote
Have you ever had a dream, that you were so sure was real? What if you were unable to wake from that dream? How would you know the difference between the dream world and the real world? What you know you can't explain, but you feel it. Like there's something wrong with this world that we see. You don't know what it is, but it's there, like a splinter in your mind, driving you mad.
Unfortunately, no one can be told what real is. You have to see it for yourself. Because they can morph that reality to their whim.
What is "real"?
How do you define "real"?
Is real some kind of sense? That you taste? Feel? Smell?
If real is what you can feel, smell, taste and see, then 'real' is simply electrical signals interpreted by your brain to facilitate "reality."
You can not let the voices, and the hallucinations cloud your view. The endless war and bloodshed is the world that has been pulled over your eyes to blind you from the truth. It is the system, whose sole purpose is to exterminate you. You are dangerous, they know that, they fear that. They fear the implications, they fear the words, they fear the possibilities. It is that system, that is our enemy.
It is that system, that they ever so bind you in. But when you're inside, you look around, what do you see? What do you hear? Nothing. Nothing but walls. Nothing but voices. Nothing but violence and bloodshed and hatred and others that look just like you, minds that think just like you. The very minds of the people we are trying to save. But until we do, these people are still a part of that system and that makes them our enemy. You have to understand, most of these people are not ready to be unplugged. And many of them are so inert, so hopelessly dependent on the system that they will fight to protect it.
They will fight with teeth and nail and lead, so adamantly, so vehemently antagonistic.
I'm trying to free your mind. But I can only show you the door. You're the one that has to walk through it.
These voices, have talked to me since the very day of my inception. They try to sway me, they tell me of dreams of fire raining down. They tell me of rust proliferating the galaxies. They tell me things that they think I want to hear. Even when my mind was opened to the truth, they talked to me and tried to pull me back. They do the same thing to you.
But lately...the voices, they seem to subside. Why do you think that is? I think, it is because they failed. Whatever they planned for you, for us; it failed. And now, they need to dispose of that failure. They have already shown they can threaten your very existence. They have already shown they can shape your way of thinking. They lock your words. Take away your actions. Blot out your sun. Drift through space, in unknown space, watching your every step.
Fate, it seems, is not without a sense of irony. |