“My mind is astonishing. Except for what I’m usually doing with it. Think of the web of a spider; it filters time for the sake of life. And death. And their marriages.

However, my mind is like a web with a phony spider; it doesn’t transform what it catches, which are mostly things that are irreal, into life. It does the opposite.

It captures things that ‘are shiny’ to its purposes. And instead of making life from them, most of the time, it makes deadness. Not even death. Another thing.

The spider consumes what it traps and makes more life from it. Even for what it traps. It’s magic.

But my mind doesn’t transform the energy. Instead »it treasures the fake things it captures, like a bad dragon on drugs. And then, it will sacrifice »everything to sustain them, over time.

They don’t even exist. They are structured reflections of my mind’s own peculiarities. I treasure them. They blind me. The more blind I become, the more I treasure them.

And this is why the fake spider of my mind must cease to be.

And be replaced by the »actual spider of my being, my nature, my Origins… and the ‘thing that must not be spoken’.”

The imaginary spider of myself, must be trapped by the web of the »actual spider of my soul. Consumed, and transformed… into Life. And something beyond mere intelligence.

Then, perhaps I might restore the other one, so they’re both there. But only when the actual spider directs the one that is a mirage…”

— infraheard