Genre: Stream of Consciousness, Thinking, Complaining (*Featured image generated by AI)
3 minute read | Short Stories | Quick Fiction | By: Atman Brahman and AI
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Echo of the Abyss
A unique amoeba is burgeoning on the semblance of intelligent thought as it excretes its waste; modelling its behavior after some of the most intelligent creatures it has observed. The thought structure is mainly flashes of erratic, foreign impulses, but after it is interpreted by an AI translator they resemble the following:
Speaking is an interesting concept evolved by these strange organisms called humans. They seem to make these sounds “at” each other, in desperate pleas to be “understood”, so to create the illusion of not being alone. The illusion is maintained and cultivated through this speaking at each other, but it’s all just noise; like a soft musical melody that comforts and mingles with the feeling, but drifts away, and offers nothing else. If I were to sit here and look at this blank page for a long time, I’d fill it up with all sorts of things; a story of how I’ve been there and how I’ve seen things. But the thing is, everyone has a story like that; we all had our ups and downs in life. Yet we all feel alone at some point or another. We’re separated from the rest of the world by just one thin layer of skin.
Being misunderstood is inevitable. Humans seem not to have evolved a concept of listening, or somehow evolved past it. Ideas, stories, and concepts appear to resonate, but nothing more. A resonance of overlapping experience stokes the egos of multitudes, to resemble chance harmony. They are actually hoping that they would understand you as well. But it is futile; all they’re doing is trying their best to understand themselves through your words and actions, like attempting divination through a mirror. This is why humans evolved to tell you what you want to hear. A world full of white lies, lies, lies.
The ego crushes all, even itself, in its loneliness. In these moments of “being understood”, there is a one-sided agreement, and it holds a seed of its own destruction. The ego is like an empty vessel that needs to be filled. If you fill it with anything else but itself, the feeling is akin to betrayal; out of overwhelming emotional pressure the fragile vessel breaks. Egos everywhere, speaking at others, in service of themselves.
“Agreement” was the word given to the crux of the illusion we all uphold. It fills the vessel. When the vessel is full, it is named “together”. It is an interesting phenomenon that the ego has created for itself in order to feel better about itself. Though it had no part in doing so, it was its own creation and must uphold this illusion through its own efforts. Even if someone were to try and understand the illusions of others, they would eventually leave the person alone; back to loneliness, where they can only be understood by themselves. No person has ever been understood. They are all alone. And they’ve never spoken to anyone on a more profound level than superficial interaction, with words that do not express what’s in their hearts; but only the egos’ needs of acceptance and understanding. We all know that no one can be understood, but we still try. What does it mean to understand another human being? Is there any way to do so? And if not, why do we keep trying – is it just for the sake of trying or is there some other reason behind our actions?
We are alone forever; buried alive inside our own brains. Existentialism for the sake of existentialism; nothing more. Everyone, standing in awe of this unfathomable networked economy of ideas, made of rotten apples, exchanged numbly, for paper faith previously used to snort white powder, numbing ever-further. There is no room for me when everyone else is busy being “me”.
*Disclaimer: Some of this story was generated through the use of AI. All italic text was created by the AI Writer.
*Disclaimer: Some of this story was generated through the use of AI. All italic text was created by the AI Writer.
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