The hopeless mind in the universe

The hopeless mind in the universe First trip

And the mind has a mind. I am Pavel's mind. You know I have a mind too. Even the mind has a mind. Unfortunately, few know this. Only the selected energies. Those who deserved it. These are those beings who, for certain and unknown reasons, the universe and the multiverse by their agreement approve which chosen energy they will give their universal vision and wisdom to. Once the chosen energies receive that mysterious vision, they gain other understandings of the world around them and begin to see the truth in lies, and the lie in truths.

I, the mind of Pavel, was fortunate enough to receive that vision of the universe, but not that of the multiverse. That's how they agreed. That's their business.

The universe. He is, was, and will remain a mystery. A unique and comprehensive whole of everything that exists - scientists believe. All that exists? Existence? The eternal question that plagues even the greatest minds that have ever lived on this planet. Even my mind gets headaches thinking about it. Even my mind has a mind. Scary. My mind is constantly thinking about the future. Does she exist? Or is she just another present? Now and here. Here and in the future present. Perhaps when my magnificent mind seeks the universe's future, it is seeking the past!

And my mind has a mind. It is a big factory with countless employees who are constantly working to create ideas for our dear writer Pavel to continue creating and writing stories. How our employees create thoughts, no one needs to know. That's our job. Our dear employees do not have holidays and do not get paid for their work. That thing does not exist in my mind, in my world, in my universe, you see, right? They do it because it makes them happy and satisfied. They do what they were created to do. To create thoughts so that Pavel can create stories. And if you ask me who created them, that's something that unfortunately I can't tell you. If I start to explain I will have to kill you. Because I hate to explain. That's what Pavel does most of the time. That's his job. And my work is only mine.

Do you know what I like to do the most? Surely you boring human beings don't know. How pathetic you are. Your lives are so monotonous and ironic. Full of negative energies. You know nothing, and you always say that you know everything, although it is never true. Not even the universe and the multiverse know everything, and they created everything that exists. Existence? Who is aware of his existence? Nobody? Anyone? Maybe we're all aware, but we're just pretending.

And my mind has a mind.

My factory was running flawlessly. My countless employees worked tirelessly as always to generate thoughts. They were smiling and happy. I decided not to observe them for a while and switched to looking through Pavel's eyes a bit. They were looking at a sheet of paper that was slowly being filled with words. Pavel wrote. He created his world with a pencil. Fictional worlds. Imaginary fantasies were full of metaphorical illusions. Because real worlds were know-it-alls and boring to write. In the real world, people: paid taxes and electricity bills, consumed unnecessary shit, ate + drank, and farted, fell in love and fell out of love quickly, turned into sheep and went to vote in political elections, killed themselves, and were reborn, read philosophy books which they did not understand, lived without knowing and died without ever knowing. Pavel's fictional worlds made sense, even though they didn't. No characters were living in them, but real people who were just waiting to be free. Freed from...