Maybe Don’t Do Drugs Probably

by Noise Pollution

I think too much. I contemplate the meanings of things to the point of putting strain on my head. I keep thinking, as if some point I’m going to “break through” to some higher level of consciousness. I keep hoping that at some point, I will be able to comprehend the incomprehensible with nothing but my own thought. I worry that if I was just a little bit better, a little bit smarter, that I could understand everything.

I think that’s why I used to use drugs so often. I kept hoping that they’d bring me to some higher plane of understanding. I guess they did, to some extent. The problem was that I didn’t like what I saw. I saw the universe for what it was: meaningless. I saw how everything we do and everything we strive for is completely arbitrary. The very concept of existence is in and of itself arbitrary.

I lost my head in that mess of thought. The concept that the very laws of the universe have no explicit reason to exist was a pretty horrifying one. It’s difficult to explain how terrifying it was without explaining how it made every bit of my sensory feedback feel meaningless. Every sight was contrived, every sound was nonsense, and every touch was  just a means to interact with chaos.

Most people would just brush that off, and consider it as nothing more than being “too high,” and I probably would too, looking at it from an outside perspective. It’s hard, though. It’s hard having that memory in head, being stuck with the ideas it brought to me forever.

The universe is chaos, and nothing more. I wish I could have felt something else.

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