Living in a simulation, excess of meaning but shortness of air. Wandering among objects meant to satisfy our inner selves. The structure of reality is carefully constructed in front of us by architects. Senses that see. Senses that touch. But all is fake. Swirl of labyrinths hiding the true meaning within. There’s no red or blue, all is out there, is the purple pill we swallow every day. Happy. Unconscious. Mirrors in front us we refuse to go through.
Down we go again. Suffocation of our senses. Guilt trapped within. The architects of our own demise. Are we truly the ones to blame for this maze? Excess of colors, invasive sounds, fowl sensations. One last scroll and you are down again. Oblivious to the true “you”, stupefied in the purple world, you fail to realize that true meaning comes when you slow down, and… Start. Looking. At. The. Inside. Ripping your guts is what it takes. Do not cross the liquid mirror, lest you are faced with the truth.