Good wine

I think I finally do see a vague version of myself. A wisp of an idea about who I am, from an external locus. Ah, I exist only here on the internet. As if my metaphysical sense, or soul such as it is, has transferred itself here. A change of capital cities from one to another somewhat removed. I am always on guard in the outer world. Always within a role, to portray as a vague husk of sentimental decline. A poor role such as it is, but better than one with no signs of emotional content. But it is here, than I feel a sense of a wall collapsing. Waves washing away to silent golden sunlight. Okay, that may be exaggerated. And oh, that was my paranoia that just struck in the previous sentence. Like a sudden sound of a returning wave on that newly silent beach. The problem always was, that as I wielded this role as some armor, instead of something intrinsic, I could not see it. Like how Gordon Freeman can never see what the fuck he is wearing, in Half Life. But, to identify a metaphysical transfer, allows me to gain some perspective on what I appear, as mentioned before, to the outer world. It is vague, because of the obvious problems related with wondering what the fuck is your consciousness when when your metaphysical soul seems distanced. The two are different? Is there a state of being beyond consciousness? I am not concerning myself with these issues of interest, until the situation with my state of being, is resolved.

See, this is the great joy of solipsism. It affords me the liberation from that standard and dull interpretation of existence. Every newfangled retard idea becomes a beautiful Weltanschauung every bit as intricate as a spider web. Then, as I discard it when I tire of it, I acquire new tastes. Just as some of the best wines, always carry that subtly bitter aftertaste, akin to silken thunder. This, seems to me, the greatest state of hedonism. Beyond the crude, and into the divine.

Ah, this wine tastes good. But I shall move on to new unopened classics, of names, I do not yet know.

And with all this, my faithful outer role. It stays the same. Conserved. Like ancient armor, weathered and cracked, but yet unbroken.