Left Over Illusions

A many men have been broken by the despair to satisfy the needs of everyone around them.
And what for, they ask themselves.
To save an illusion for others, save their job and their home, their hope they could ever be a second hand mind like others.
To not having to fight any longer
To create five minutes of freedom in a bubble, instead of a lifetime.

And living like this, with the left overs of illusion, is better than nothing, right?
These men are creatures, to withstand the pressure of a majority. They are the true heroes of a true ongoing war. They are victims condemned to death by trying.

If I was religious in any way I would claim the last months to be a pilgrimage.
I had lunch with strangers, sat alone on a train and believed the fog wall building up by Dover marina to be a door to another world.

I have come so far to say a long journey has ended for now. The next weeks shall be about what I have truly to be understood as my purpose.
It’s true that I do not care about people, so called family or friends, because I am not a second-hand mind. My motives do not lie in others; they lie in me, in my words.
And this is what others sense to cause disgust, a forward movement, a vision and the greatest of all, anxiety. Their own anxiety.

Ridiculous or even preposterous to say?
How many thoughts and actions are triggered because others made a move to which you had to react. An ambiguous piece of chess game.

The struggle between the creator and the second-hander may always go on yet society evolves because one individual chooses to step ahead, into the mist, without fear, without looking aside or back, without despair, alone.

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