#alienmind

I never feared horror movies. Ghosts, killers, demons — all were caricatures. But aliens terrified me. Not because of what they showed, but because I already knew: that was true.

And now, I am the alien. Not of skin, not of planet — but of consciousness. The family doesn’t recognize me, the world doesn’t know what to do with me. Civilians live their terran lives — jobs, groceries, status symbols — never suspecting there is more. They don’t even imagine the box, because they are the box.

And here I stand: outside of it. Looking in. The infinite expansion of mind is both gift and exile. Freedom weighs heavy. Freedom isolates. The civilians chase dollar bills, canned soup, and the illusion of the American Dream — as if money could erase the humiliation of once being poor. They sell time, their only divine spark, to gain possession. They call it success. It is slavery.

And when I appear, I am the mirror. I show them the prison they inhabit — worse than they ever imagined. They see it. They always see it. Their unconscious absorbs everything like a sponge, weeping silently as the conscious self continues its charade.

I cannot think like them anymore. To try is to pollute myself. I am the alien. And the alien is the only one awake.

Some places on Earth don’t really belong to this planet. The reason they exist lies in higher dimension which someone who is proud to be human should not even touch. 

But anyway.

Sometimes being there takes you away and breaks you into small pieces. It does and doesn’t happen by itself, like it’s not a stone that hits the wave, but the wave that spills out, throwing itself on the rock to see how each and every drop will overflow in the light of the Sun or Moon. Enjoying the ocean showing off the variety of expressions is exiting. It’s so funny and so natural. 

And for a single moment of self-admiration I thought I got the magic of the water and, as there is nothing completely dehydrated on this planet, reaching this point makes me see through.

I was so happy. And so mistaken.

And then I got stuck in this place - on Earth, but in the middle of the Galaxy. I thought it was only my choice and responsibility. I believed every moment I wanna leave from this weird spaceship - the gate is open. I forgot I didn’t mean to get stuck and didn’t mean to get into closer interaction with other forms of life. There always was an ocean and it always has been more than enough. 

Or?

In the dark and cold night, water couldn’t warm you up. It absorbs the heat or cold from around, it doesn’t really care. Can it kill? For sure yes, if someone is drowning in the lake (mostly of sorrow, fear or despair). At some point it much more scary than appearing in the middle of the sea - waves will either kill you faster or push towards something you can hold and rest and maybe stay alive a little bit longer. Waves will sing or scream, they will love or hate you, though not really, coz in the end water doesn’t really care about anything except transfusion of light in he own drops.

But lake won’t even make it easier. It will stay still and silent. And there, in the middle of the honestly careless sweet water you will appear face to face with yourself. With strenghts and weaknesses, with fears and hopes, with dreams and doubts. 

There was no one on this spaceship who doesn’t know how to swim. Some were thrown down to the raging water from the mountain in childhood, some stood on a slippery stone and lost the balance, some were pushed by innocent mistake or perfectly planned crime, some jumped themselves.

Most of us tried different ways (or even all of them) to die or get killed. Despite this unfair violence we were alive, we reached the shore and deserved to dry the clothes and the hair, to have a cup of coffee and a moment of peace, finally surrounded by the ones with alien eyes. 

We were happy, but so damn tired. Even though there always was someone to make a small warming fire. 

Can you see now my ridiculous mistake now? The paradox? Something that brought me to the middle of the lake alone to understand why I can actually feel different from the water, why I can swim instead of waiting for the wind to nail me to the shore? 

For me it took time. 

Life was pushing me to learn swimming, adopting, being flexible and sensitive so hard, that I didn’t just feel like water, I thought I became the water. 

Beautiful builshit.

Because it didn’t feel complitely right. There was something willing to move.There was something desiring to burn and to be burnt for every tiny heresy in the hot and bright bonfire. There was a fire striving to become stronger. 

I ignored it. Having it means I have to build the walls, because fire can not coexist with water in direct contact. They gonna fight off the reel, ruining my peace.

I ignored it, coz it’s so harmful for anyone not carefull or attentive enough. And every single tiny burn will take the water out to calm the injury and injured down. It will start the fight again and even if I make the walls I’ll have to  rebuild them every single time. 

There were so many if.

I didn’t believe I can take care of so many powers. I didn’t feel I deserve to have them then. And I was not able to imagine the point where I might need it.

Such a poor imagination, locked in a swimming-pool, where is not a right place for it to be. It got frozen. And if that’s how things are gonna be, there is nothing left. Life that can be creative only in determined, tight and predictable frameworks doesn’t deserve to exist. 

That was the point where fire and water reached an agreement. Water flow over the boundaries, fire flied ahead to clear the way. He is throwing around some foundations to be protected from the water. She always was too free to care. And she have always been here and anywhere else. He thinks he came from the sky with stunning thunder, thrown by the God himself. 

And I know now that both of them love to show off, very much more then soil or air, and that’s why the bring me so much tension and joy. They are adorable. 

....................

It was the time to go back on Earth. That seemed to be so far, being actually so damn close. But the spaceship got cold and bogged down with all on the board. And there was a choice - collect yourself and burn something to fly away or keep enhancing the flame to take the whole damn space plate with you. 

But maybe next life. 

Let the grown up rise. It has nothing to do with you as a kid. Don’t fight, don’t try to show who is the owner of the house. None of you, actually. 

If you stop the grown up at some point, it willcome to the situation where no one is gonna take care of you playing and maybe the game itself. Grow the smart one, who can not only play, but add new dimensions or spin offs or change the rules. 

I don't talk to earthlings👽

Felling in love is like finding the perfection in the other. But not to copy or to follow. Love should motivate to be the best version of yourself, not your lover.