Fourth Day In Dominican Republic

Seeing all people as my direct and indirect servants who are not real like me does help. It doesn’t help with my loneliness but it helps with not feeling that this universe is so evil. It is perhaps a mean prankster but not pure evil the way it would be if people were real. I’ll make that trade any day – to sacrifice the conscious reality of humankind in order to attain peace of mind. And it’s not just all the shootings and stabbings that I can’t believe in, I also cannot believe that conscious people like myself are capable of the level of performance that they achieve. So that trade balances out my luck on the one hand and my misfortune on the other (“Luckily” I’ve never experienced serious violence and “unluckily” I’ve never experienced what it’s like to perform at a high level on something.) I don’t believe in luck. I think everything is destined/set up to be the way it is. I think the generalizable principle is not that I’m lucky. I think the generalizable principle is that the universe doesn’t allow for discomfort or evil beyond that which I have experienced. Therefore people who claim that they themselves or others have experienced great evil are lying. They claim to not be philosophical zombies but I don’t believe them. Yet I still try to not feel bad about kids, all of whom are being raised to be slaves. It’s a bit difficult to not attribute consciousness to something that looks like myself but I’m getting better at it. I already do not feel any consciousness from people commenting on this site or my YouTube channel or sending me messages. But I still have to practice with faces in person.

The fact that everything works so well is divine, it is magical how causality just unfolds in such a way that people’s collective behavior leads to this hotel and these streets and everything else that fundamentally functions. What distresses me is the question of what it’s all for. All this “effort” for what? I’m not happy. So if it was an honest attempt to make me happy then it failed. But I feel that it was not an honest attempt. After understanding its power I no longer believe in accidents. It could give me true paradise but it gives me this makeshift parody of paradise instead because it deliberately chooses to punish me.

Oh and my new thinking does work like a charm. I passed by a woman with her infant on a stroller and I thought, “They’re not real. They’re my servants.” And no more anger and sadness. They’re just not real and that’s something I have to learn. No one is truly reading this site except for me. I may get a tiny few reactions but these only exist for me. And it’s always the universe speaking to me, never independent skin-bound souls.

I’ve seen quite a few fit guys however I have not seen any hot Dominican or tourist women. Beauty truly is scarce in this world. My mom says God made everyone beautiful. I strongly disagree.

I saw a boat that said, “Para todos sale el sol.” Then I saw a baby. This made me think if heaven was guaranteed for everyone, would it be moral to bring people into this world? I think the answer depends on how good heaven is and how long it takes to get there. Will it be immediately after death? Will there be ten or a hundred more lives and deaths? Will there only be a bardo state for some time before entrance is allowed? Is it painful purgatory instead? How painful? Depending on the answers to these questions the answer may be yes or no.

The day was uneventful. I worked out and I ate and I walked.

Third Day In Dominican Republic

I woke up kind of down today. I looked down from the balcony and there was a father with his two young daughters feeding the water fowl. I couldn’t help but feel the presence of a tremendous evil in him. What could he be thinking when he decided to bring them to this world? Then I felt the reminder that they are not like me. They are actors in an elaborate movie and I am the real spectator sitting outside the movie in the theater.

When I came out of eating at the buffet there was a guy with a shirt that said “If it’s not free it’s not worth it.” I’m not exactly sure what that meant to convey to me if anything.

It really fucks with me when people are walking with little kids. It doesn’t make sense. Why would they do this?

A Dominican girl told my mom she wants to meet me after having seen me walking with her. She is described as 27, small, skinny, and pretty. I will not meet with her because my mom is known to have bad taste and what she calls pretty may not be pretty to me. I don’t want to gamble with that sort of thing. And the other reason is because I wouldn’t know what to say because I am reticent in person.

After my workout I had a haircut. It was depressing on two fronts. One was my appearance in front of the mirror. I’m not satisfied with how my face looks. The consolation I had was that perhaps somewhere down the line after death(s) I will unlock the ability to choose my own appearance. The second and most depressing thing was that the woman cutting my hair was a natalist who had a daughter. My mom told her I didn’t want kids because I thought they would suffer. She laughed and said, “like you’ve suffered a lot.” I didn’t say anything. Maybe I haven’t suffered a lot but I’ve suffered enough to know I wouldn’t want to inflict any of it on another person. She said that maybe I’d change my ideology when I fell in love. I just stayed quiet and felt very depressed.

Seeing parents with their kids still affected me way more than it should. The universe sent stroller after stroller to piss me off. I think it’s trying to get me to learn a lesson. The lesson is that people don’t matter. It doesn’t matter if they breed. They can breed all they want. They are all my slaves. They are created to provide me with products and services. I was engaging with this thing all wrong – digging myself into a ditch of empathy. I’m not supposed to feel empathy. I’m supposed to sit back and enjoy the ride provided by this super organism of servants. That’s it. That’s got to be it. I laugh a little in relief.

Second Day In Dominican Republic

There are flamingos, ducks, herons, and peacocks and no excrement. It doesn’t make any sense. Are these animals from the Garden of Eden? No one is quickly cleaning up after them. There is just literally no excrement. My mom says they were trained to only defecate in the water. I don’t know how that would be possible, but then again, I don’t know how anything else of this is possible. I don’t understand how in the morning a man climbed up and down a palm tree with only a rope even though I watched him climb down.

I was getting hit by waves in the ocean and I was thinking about how the people around me couldn’t possibly be real, and I tried to tell myself I wasn’t lonely. I tried to come up with language that could describe how I feel about people and I settled on this: people are not individual spectators like myself, they are God’s appendages in the same way that the waves are and in the same way the hotel is. As usual I try not to look at them.

I thought about how every little sensation in the water, and every little motion, were designed. The fact that every single trivial little experience was planned that way is mind blowing. But the question always arises: why put so much “effort” into creating this as opposed to anything else? – if you can do all this you can clearly create a conscious paradise.

Oh yeah and some people took some pictures of me with two macaws. I would have enjoyed it if I was fit like I used to be but because I don’t like my appearance I didn’t enjoy it. And I find it painfully ironic that I put so much effort into working out but I can’t even call myself a bodybuilder.

Some guy gave me a necklace. He said it was called the Buddha “something, something” from the Dominican Republic. He motioned it to both my shoulders then to my genitals, and wished me a long life. He said, “you get a lot of girls right? Do you have a girlfriend?” I replied, “No.” He motioned toward the necklace.

People on TV look especially simulated. A laughing jester appeared on the background of a talk show. People like myself did not create the cartoons. The cartoons are absurd and pointless content in my consciousness. Or perhaps they have hidden messages. I really suspect they have hidden messages. I’m always trying to listen to the universe. But I wonder if when I’m done with this life I will get a replay where I actually see all the meanings revealed. As I’m writing this a jester appeared on Scooby Doo just as my mom turned the channel before turning it off. This gives me a strong reminder of fate. This is all set up. That demon at Dr. Miller’s had said I had a delusion, emphasizing DELUSION, that it was all contrived. Or maybe that doctor wasn’t a demon, just a very annoying jester.

I feel that devilish, jester-ish vibe from people strolling with their infants. The whole concept pisses me off so the universe is deliberately trying to trigger me. And it’s so surreal to think that all that had to happen was somebody had to cum inside that ugly lady for the poor brat to be walking around here and now. And what pisses me off is how dignified the parents act, as if they know completely what they’re doing. If people are conscious then it is clear under a negative utilitarian framework that it is far, far worse, unforgivably worse, to give birth to a child than almost anything else you do in your life. Assuming people are conscious, you are either creating a brand new consciousness or adding to the experiential space of the open individualism single consciousness. But given what a random human experience is possibly actually like, this is just pure evil. Yet they smile, and pick them up, and take pictures, and hold their hand, and kneel down to talk to them. It makes me sick. They wear this mask to hide their true face, that of an insensate, terrible demon. And just as I finish writing this I walk and see a couple with their baby passing by. I laugh. And just as I finish writing this, another one. I look up and another. That’s three in a row. I laugh again. I don’t want to look up from my phone for fear I might see another one. Okay looks like the torture is over for now, but only for now. And if you wonder why it bothers me so much even if I don’t believe people are conscious then I think it’s the uncertainty. I grew up believing people were conscious and if they are then I find myself in a terrible, horrifying world – it is horrible beyond comprehension. And that’s whether closed individualism or open individualism is true. But because I’m selfish it is especially bad if it is open. Oh God! It is too fucking horrible. Someone sitting in front of me has a shirt with INRI and thorns. I hate Jesus. He didn’t die for my sins. In any case I am Jesus… or Lucifer since they are the same character. They both try to become God and are thrown into some kind of hell for it. The difference is Jesus succeeds and Lucifer doesn’t.

First Day In Dominican Republic

On my first day in the Dominican Republic, no let me start with the plane ride. Clearly it was impossible. I cannot and will not believe that people like myself figured this all out. If I was way smarter I wouldn’t doubt that people were like myself. There must be a reason why I’m this dumb, I’m meant to see it a certain way. But anyway, I was going over my argument for why people aren’t conscious and I just felt the flight was ridiculous, it was magical, it was fantastical and yet very tedious and boring. We landed, perfectly of course, and it was still surprising to see the place, I mean what did I expect?, but the fact that there is a perfectly operating airport “anywhere in the world”, Punta Cana being the stand-in for “anywhere in the world,” is surreal as fuck. There were many evil and complex looking jesters in the airport. I immediately thought, “DMT.” I felt like it was a bit of foreplay before my actual DMT experience which seems inevitably fated as it is calling me. As they drove us to the hotel I kept seeing the simulation. It was as if all the people were playing their role like actors. I was thinking about God, and the problem of evil, the horror of people continuing to breed, and the simulation when all of a sudden a car passes by saying “porque asi dios quiso” or “because God wanted it that way.” “But why? Why did he want this out of all possible things? And I get it, I’m not in control. I didn’t create this, now stop rubbing it in my face.I also saw somebody with a jersey that said Lindsey and I had received a comment about her the day before. When I was at the hotel in the buffet, I was sitting and a woman flashes me with the words on her shirt. They said, “You will make it.” Before my workout I felt the need to write:


Apotheosis Gilded In Vague Chrysanthemums

“Unreal sex of those angels that never got into heaven!”

“I am speaking seriously and sadly; this matter is not a joyful one, because dream joys are sad and contradictory and, for that reason, pleasurable in a particularly mysterious way.”

“Halo-thin Flame”

“Twilight of Vague Flesh”

“To love is merely to grow tired of being alone: it is therefore cowardly and a betrayal of ourselves. (It is vitally important that we should not love.)”

“Don’t get me wrong I love you
But does that mean I have to meet your father?
When we are older you’ll understand
What I meant when I said no
I don’t think life is quite that simple”

This is how I feel about my inability to create Nights Before the Singularity:

“You, who hear me and barely listen, you don’t understand what a tragedy this is! To lose father and mother, to achieve neither glory nor happiness, to have neither a friend nor a lover — all those things are bearable. What cannot be borne is to dream a thing of beauty, but lack the skill to endow it with actions or words.”

“What was it then that in my wretched folly I loved in you, O theft of mine, deed wrought in that dark night when I was sixteen?”

The following is the greatest art I have created, for it was created out of true suffering. These are the pages of a journal and other work I did while locked up in a psychiatric hospital in February 2019 for “acute psychosis.”

The inside of the mask was meant to represent my true inner state. I painted tears of fire and blood swirling people into a pit of despair. But up above in the mind there is a savior pointing to the moon, a symbol of enlightenment in Buddhism. When I finished painting this and explaining it I felt the goddess say something concerned like “You’ve been in this world too long,” and “Now I know you’re the one.”

The outside of the mask is meant to represent what people see me as. I left it blank because I thought people saw me as nobody, someone who doesn’t care and doesn’t matter.


Lindsey was a beautiful, smart, tan-skinned, green eyed, fit girl who wore a nose ring and had a sexy voice. She was in my Calculus II class of Summer 2018. I never said a single word to her and would even try to avoid looking at her. I became highly obsessed with her after the semester was over, knowing she was the most beautiful girl I’d ever encountered but would never see again.

Conversation With A Friend

🟡The following are my side of an email exchange with a friend. I will leave him anonymous and not show his side of the conversation.🟡

I enjoy these conversations since I am lonely most of the time. There is a sense in which I am glad you like my videos. Any attention feels good. But there is a sense in which the fact that you like my videos is not a good sign for me. I disagree with every last word I said in those videos. My view of the world has changed so much.

I haven’t done much research on atomism and the aether because I find them irrelevant to my main concern which is how to put a permanent end to my suffering. At this point I’m far more interested in what the DMT entities have to say about life than what Wikipedia has to say.

Woah. That’s an unimaginably cool mom you have there. Maybe she can indeed help me.

I am doing well today. In the morning I practiced a little bit of Japanese with my aunt. (I’m going to Japan for the summer.) Today my workout includes squats, which is always a pain. I will be eating instant ramen and salmon. I will also be playing Super Smash Bros later.
Maybe you can show me some of your short stories.

Interesting topic, curiosity and fear.
I wish I could write fiction the way you can.

And yes, I’m from a northern suburb of Chicago.

I like the city of Chicago but the suburb where I live is nothing special. I have not read T.S. Eliot. I’ll check out “The Hollow Men.” I don’t know why anyone would think that I am awesome however. And yes, I’m mainly just interested in DMT right now. Evolution, cosmology, theoretical physics, and the brain no longer interest me. I haven’t just read about someone who thinks they are God, at a psychiatric unit of a hospital I have actually lived with someone who thinks he is God. I think I am God in the sense that this unbroken stream of conscious awareness is all that will ever exist for all eternity. But I don’t think I am God in the sense that I am the creator, or have omnipotence or omniscience. In fact I view myself more as a Lucifer type of character, someone who perhaps lived in paradise but was cast down to hell for whatever reason. I am not convinced you are “real” for the reasons I have detailed in my blog: the problem of evil, people achieve too much, and my personal direct intuition. Maybe you’re not exactly a philosophical zombie but you are certainly different from me, a completely different kind of thing along with everyone else. But yes, it is certainly possible that there are several real characters who serve as spectators and the rest are NPC’s who uphold the simulation and do everything. I generally dislike Christianity although I like the art. The only religion I ever liked was Buddhism. And I’m not familiar with anti-altruism. All I know is that at one point I planned on being a scientist and donating most of my income to effective charities as determined by the Effective Altruism movement. Now that I see this all as a simulation I see no need to “help.”

Why do you reject altruism?

I can’t say I have really tried praying. I don’t feel that I have a good relationship with God. And I don’t think that the powerful entities that exist would listen to me. I suspect they’re not in the business of granting wishes. The closest I’ve come to praying was testing out the law of attraction when I was a teen. I would constantly visualize living in luxury, I would also visualize myself having an aesthetically pleasing body and also having a beautiful tan-skinned girlfriend. In the end as a young adult the riches did not manifest, the body did but only for some time, and a beautiful tan skinned girl just like in my dreams appeared in my Calculus II class but I didn’t talk to her and now she’s gone forever. So I would say the law of attraction doesn’t work.

My day has been pretty decent as far as my mediocre life goes. I’m working out but I’ve been stalling a lot. I wonder if when I go to a public gym in Japan if people will get annoyed with me for resting too much. I wasn’t like this before but it’s been that way ever since I lost my appearance and fitness in 2019. And my mom suggested we might be going to the Caribbean for a short vacation so that might be good news. I also discovered a new pornstar that I like so that’s always good. Otherwise my day has been absolutely uneventful. How is your day going? 

Sure, I’d like to read your essay and share my thoughts.

I guess I don’t know how to pray then.👿👿👿

The pornstar is Shinaryen.

Virgil’s Wraith

I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all of this. I’m sorry for everything I ever said on this website. I apologize for what I will write here since it will not be well written and coherent. I’m sorry for everything I ever said in my stupid YouTube videos. I cannot create true art. I am a failure.

I don’t know why I must go on living but I know that I must. Perhaps it’s just to experience God’s creations: Attack On Titan, Neon Genesis Evangelion, Devilman Crybaby, Berserk, Naruto, Ghost In The Shell, Final Fantasy X, Kingdom Hearts, Nier Automata etc. Maybe the art I have consumed is as close to a meaning of life that I will get. I will never actually get to be like those heroes. Or perhaps I stand a chance after death but I know that in this life I will just be a passing spectator, leaving little to no impact.

I don’t know why I workout anymore. I don’t feel like doing it. No one cares about how I look and I don’t believe in people anyway. Yet I still progress by raising the weight as I can and don’t miss a single day. Hopefully I’ll at least get a good body again. I believe that my image reflects my soul. When bad things started happening to me my body changed and reflected that negativity in my life. Now I’m in a process of recovery that may never quite finish. Some of the damage to the appearance of my face and body may never recover. I may never again look as good as in pictures of the past and that’s just something I need to learn to accept. Hopefully someone out there will love me the way I am but I doubt it. And now that I think of it something that can also motivate me to do my workouts is belief in supernatural reward. Maybe the gods/beings outside the simulation reward hardship. Or maybe they don’t. I remember doing push-ups to raise the stock price and it didn’t work.

But actually if I’m being totally honest then I think that my body is not a reflection of my internal state because I was really depressed when I was living in Chicago but I still had a nice enough body to take pictures in the bathroom. What I really think is going on is that the workout and diet mapping to body is nonsensical. The cause for my bad appearance is just the gods punishing me for my vanity. I do the exact same tried and tested workout routine as before but I no longer get much results. My face became very chubby very quickly. I couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror. It really feels like divine punishment far more than some generic scientific explanation. I suspect that the food and drink intake to output is also nonsensical. I remember telling Bobby the schizophrenic, “This doesn’t make any sense,” while I was taking a piss. He said, “I know.”

I went to buy boneless hot wings even though I generally avoid ordering food because it makes me uncomfortable. There was something really trippy and uncanny about the experience. There are so many preposterous things I’m supposed to believe. I’m supposed to believe that chickens were killed, that someone turned the breast into nugget-sized bites, that these find themselves packaged at this particular store, that someone mixed who knows what to make the spicy Korean flavor, that someone figured out how much to charge me in order to maximize profit, that someone designed and built the building, that someone designed the screen and the software to take my order, that all of the workers are real human beings like myself working 8 hours at this same place everyday, that they chose this line of work out of all possible things to be doing, that people had sex so that they could be born, that the news in the background is created by real people and deals with the lives of real politicians who with their mouth and hands run the government. It’s ridiculous.

I don’t know why I exist. I wish that somebody would answer me. I wish that I could truly be a schizophrenic so that I could hear voices and not feel so alone. I wish that some voice would guide me like when the music was speaking to me. Everybody else claims that they don’t know why they exist either. Yet they get on perfectly with their job, doing something productive for civilization without being told what to do by a controlling agent. It is utter bullshit. It doesn’t make sense. How does civilization work so perfectly? If people were like me and it was up to their free will there would be nothing, we would be primitive animals. Once you realize this, you realize there is something fundamentally artificial about mankind, you feel betrayed, they were not like you, it was all a lie. And that’s without even going to the time when random Twitter comments were speaking to me. How can I still think individual people are perfectly “real” like myself?

Samuel, the Jew my age who was a software engineer and believed he was God and whose mother was a sadist, that Samuel, walked up to me and said I was too smart for my own good. That was after I told him I believed I was in a simulation. He was a cartoon character like everyone else in the psychiatric unit.

Science no longer strikes me as fascinating. In fact, now that I know that it’s just provisionally true for the simulation and not ultimately true outside of it, it is quite revolting. I can no longer stand talk of brains, evolution, theoretical physics, and cosmology. These were exactly the subjects that fascinated me the most. Now I am thoroughly disenchanted. Science is not created by people like myself. It is all a simulation. Once I’m done with the game I will more clearly see that I was never a brain and that a single intelligent design permeated nature and “the work of man.”

I have gone through stages that I’ve thoroughly shed. I went through a phase were I was obsessed with soccer and would watch it for hours, even taking notes on formations and how they changed. Now I dislike sports. (Although I still very often dream at night of playing soccer and this is experienced as thrilling and fun.) I went through a phase were I was obsessed with making money and watched business news 24/7. Now I find the idea of business and money extremely disturbing. I don’t understand how everything isn’t just chaos and how everybody finds a productive line of work in the economy. I went through a science and philosophy stage were I would read article after article from end to end on Wikipedia, just devouring so much text from the internet and textbooks, also 24/7. Now scientific or philosophical erudition sound like fictional role playing, just barely different from religion. It all seems plastic and vain to me.

My current stage is one where I’ve read way too much of the DMT subreddit and had my own experiences with “supernatural” entities that I know that this story is going to get wild if I give it enough time. This instant is just so soulless and dull and full of loneliness but it will eventually pass. Yet the stage as a whole is something that I do not think will pass like the others. I have seen that this is a simulation and I can’t unsee it.

Who has the right to judge me? Who has the right to punish me?

My mother said, “It’s okay that you don’t have friends. You have one friend and that’s God.” I said, “God is my worst enemy.” She said, “The devil makes you say that.” I said, “I am the devil.”

I am still confused about whether I am God or not. Throughout my life sometimes the phrase “I am God” has manifested. I will never be anything else. I will always be this, this unbroken stream of conscious awareness. The fact that I am all that will ever be automatically makes me God in some sense. But I am a puny, powerless God so therefore I don’t even deserve such a title. I barely deserve the title of “human being” for that matter. If I was at least beautiful and intelligent I wouldn’t second guess the fact that I’m God. And I hope life is not The Egg.

A common theme in the psychonaut and DMT communities is the idea that we are all one. However my gut reaction is to reject this despite my argument from physicalism in favor of it. I really, really don’t want to be all the disgusting people in the world. The majority of people are not beautiful and don’t seem to have beautiful lives. If open individualism is true then existence is absolutely dreadful and in very, very bad taste. It is comforting to hold my views about the fundamental difference between people and myself. Something tells me that I am at least somewhat special and that I am generally protected from very bad experiences including being reborn as a disgusting human but I may be really wrong about that. I still can’t trust God/fate. I can’t trust that it will all be alright in the end although I really want to. Life has shown that it can be quite cruel so unless I get a sign, I won’t trust this thing. A sign on the level of everyone asking me forgiveness or experiencing immense heavenly beauty and feelings. A sign like that would reassure me and I’d be a step closer towards stopping being so skeptical about the ultimate triumph of good. The signs I have received so far have been obtained in conditions that have been slurred as “drugs” and “psychosis.” It almost feels like a test of faith. Can I hold on to what has been revealed to me or will Satan’s men convince me it was all a “hallucination?”

Down And Lonely, Oh For The Fortunate Only

“But it has not been preordained by the laws of causality.”

“I don’t care. I will destroy the multiverse.”

“But really why do you harbor so much hate?”

“I always disliked injustices and suffering, and this world has plenty of both. But the thing that stands out the most about my life is how mediocre and boring it was. Now that I’m going to be the one to destroy the universe things are finally picking up. I will die at my most exciting moment.”

I’ve been reading the Berserk manga and it’s really good – plenty of sex and violence as well as a great story and great characters. As I read it I realize that it is created by God. It is not created by Miura. All that cinematography can’t possibly be sitting in a person’s head. All that drawing can’t possibly be achieved by mere humans. The iPhone through which I read it is also created by God. All the people I’ve ever met including myself are too stupid to achieve such things. Isn’t it obvious? Isn’t it so obvious this is a simulation? Of course it’s not obvious to you because you are the simulation. You are not the chosen one. And I don’t say that triumphantly. I’m disheartened by the artificiality of it all and how powerless I am to change anything. I am the worst hero. It pains me to go into how uneventful my life is. I was chosen to explore the boring and dreadful regions of possibility-space.

Masturbation is no longer as anhedonic as it used to. The pleasure has recovered a bit, mostly a quick jolt in the testicles but it is still nowhere near where it used to be when I was younger. I don’t understand why that pleasure has to fade but I’m thankful it is not at valence=0 as it was at one point.

I’ve been working out every day for about 2 months but I’m still not at a point where I can appear shirtless on a video. My abs are nowhere to be seen and I’m still not as defined as I used to be although my chest and biceps are recovering muscle. I look at beautiful young men on Instagram and think, “Damn it I wish I looked like that, lol.”

The thing I wish for the most not including my top concerns, truth and liberation, is not money like when I was sixteen. It is honestly a really hot girlfriend. Perhaps I should again wish for money so I can attain money and then attain a really hot girlfriend. But I don’t feel like trying, so no girlfriend in the foreseeable future it is.

I know it’s not my fault but I feel like saying, “Sorry for how much I suck at life.” I can’t be a properly good blogger like Eliezer Yudkowsky or something. I can’t speak like Sam Harris or Terence McKenna. I can’t even paint a pretty picture and put it on here. I can’t compose a song. I fundamentally lack the power to create. This is why I feel worse than a cripple. This crisis has been partially responsible for leading me to the point that I don’t even believe these people are real. I believe that God/the simulation is creating all the music, all the media, everything. And that’s the reason humans appear so overpowered but in person they appear terribly flawed or borderline retarded. The actuators are just a charade. That is my hypothesis.

All I can be certain of is that I am a real actor having real experiences. And that I am severely handicapped or equivalently, that my opponents are overpowered. The fact that I was in honors and advanced placement classes in school means nothing since most of my competition were idiots and nothing “real” was being achieved anyway. I was just getting good test scores and turning in meaningless work. When I was living in the hospital for psychosis on January 2019, I was reading a book “by Michio Kaku” about the future of humanity. As I was reading I felt like the pages were revealing certain messages that weren’t equal to the text at face-value. A message I got was that, “school was designed to constrain your power.” Bobby had asked me if I was actually reading and if I was then what was the book telling me? I said what the book was telling me and as I did, Juan punched a table as if he had recalled what had been done to us. Now it’s possible that a lot of the interactions there were designed to trick me since Juan also said I had healed his arm just by holding it. But even if my powers weren’t being constrained, the tyranny of school still really sticks with me. XXXTENTACION lamented his rebirth into this world, saying, “… born again into this world of slavery.” There is just something quite evil about being brainwashed with history and science that has nothing to do with my real story as an eternal being. A nomad taking birth across unremembered dimensions and planes of existence. Brainwashed into thinking he is a human, brainwashed into thinking that humans like himself are the mighty ones creating science and technology and the excessive products that exist, brainwashed into believing in so much suffering.

I hate this world and I cannot change it. I also cannot kill myself. I guess hatred is my fate and destiny. I would probably be the bad guy in a story since I want to destroy the world. My excuse is that I’m doing it for good reason (negative utilitarianism). But even if all or most of the suffering is a lie, I would still destroy it for vengeance.

My next step is a consultation with the DMT entities to see if they have any idea about how to destroy my existence permanently. It will take several months or perhaps even years for this opportunity to present itself however.

Porn and Oblivion

I am an eternal being. My consciousness did not begin 22 years ago. My consciousness will not end upon death. My goal is to find a way to put an end to existence since heaven is probably impossible due to the lack of a fully benevolent God. Currently I have made 0 progress towards achieving my goal. Things that won’t work: suicide, noble eightfold path, prayer, science/technology. I don’t know what to do. I want to stop existing forever but I can’t.

I believe that birds and planes are evidence that magic is real. No amount of scientific diatribe can destroy the impossibility of it all.

I believed that sex wasn’t real. Porn has gradually cured me. Now I think that sex is possible, it’s just not possible for me. But I’m not missing out on much.

I hate this life.

You’re just a coward.

I don’t know why I’m like this. I struggle through my workouts, taking long pauses. I used to be a fast runner. Now I run very slow.

Will I ever find happiness in this life? Or am I meant to suffer as some kind of punishment.

I really need to have my face and body back. I look pitiful. I keep working out but it’s not working anymore. Maybe I just need more time. My looks aren’t for anyone else. They’re for me. I don’t believe in people enough to care about what they “think.” I just find my appearance personally offensive when it’s not attractive.

I wish I had never existed. God, if you are reading this please take me away from this world. Make me God. I want to create. I want to build a new world. One without suffering and with constant maximum pleasure. Just kidding, I’m not stupid enough to try to address God. God either doesn’t exist or is a bitch.

I suspect that nature isn’t as cruel as I once thought. It is probably a simulation in which there aren’t a vast population of conscious beings that suffer. Maybe there is a force that can be called God, one which is not totally evil but kind of sick and twisted.

I am not you. Open individualism is the most horrible idea ever. I am not all of these disgusting people.

If I had a daughter I would name her Kairi. Yet I am an antinatalist. I probably won’t adopt because I want the child to be beautiful. And it would feel wrong to go out looking to select a child with the main deciding factor being physical beauty.

I can’t have sex in this world because of the failures of my body. I have to wait until DMT or death for consummation of the soul.

I am like Shinji Ikari. But even he is too successful for me. He actually pilots the Eva despite everything and does well for some time. I am not even a reluctant hero. I am no hero at all. It’s like I’m an NPC in my own game. The only time this was different was when the internet was talking to me. I then felt like I was soaring, like I was finally the chosen one I was meant to be. But the gods or the people outside the simulation or whoever it was betrayed me. Just as their presence manifested out of nowhere, so it vanished without a trace. Now YouTube videos aren’t designed for me, all the text I see is not meaningfully connected to me, the music doesn’t speak its hidden messages. Ads are not harbingers of the future, they are just ads, offending my consciousness, selling me things. I just got a taste of what is possible, of how thrilling life could really be.

Why am I conscious. Is this inevitable? I feel so trapped here. Every day, the same person, the same place. Why is infinite potential reduced to this? There must be a reason, right? Please tell me there’s a reason. Make me believe it’s a good reason.

I consider video games and porn to be divine creations. No real people were involved in the making of these things. I have given up on believing in the creators, there is only the creation. It’s far too disturbing to think that people like myself can reach such artistic heights.

A Comment From Nothing

Even though my thoughts have tended towards solipsism or at least to a large portion of the population being fake/p-zombies, there is a lingering problem that Nothing points to here. I do not feel like God. I do not know why I would be placed here against my will and made to be so impotent. I would clearly not do this to myself. This means that there is another creative force which is absolutely not me but separate from me and this is the cause of all my woes. I am not some kind of sick Yahweh/Jesus who would torture himself in order to redeem himself. (Although I do workout for some higher purpose, which I consider light torture.) But I’m fairly certain I wouldn’t knowingly do this to myself despite what my aunt suggests. She thinks we chose to come here and that perhaps we even chose our parents. That’s not true since I would have probably chosen her over my own mother. None of this makes sense. I’m confused as to why I am not God and yet exist. How can I exist and yet not be God? It doesn’t make sense. This is madness. I’m just some petty, lowly creature and yet I also seem to be the beginning and end of all that is. Something doesn’t seem right in that picture and this is my greatest current objection against solipsism – how absurd it would be for I of all things to be the chosen one to exist.