We walk this path along a road between fallen trees,
leading deep into our minds. Roads separate, side by side. I heard a crow call from your road and I stopped to turn around. It was not there. Or I could not see it. It was only an illusion. Illusion.
There may be another way to live, but if there is it has never been known to me. It’s the exact same to say that there could be another way to see. All of these perceptions, lenses, do they amount to anything when we can only know one? I cast them away, they are in doubt. Just an illusion.
Illusion, a lie. Real is what is near to me. Real is what I can touch, smell, feel, breath, know, think, perceive. I cannot perceive what others do. I cannot look the way others do. I never want to. I know the truth. I know my way is my way, the others are an illusion to me. An illusion.
Cast them off, these lies of empathy. Just because I can know things about you and what you feel does not mean I can feel it as you do, from your vantage point. I will never know how you feel. I can never know how you feel. To know is an illusion. Nothing more than an illusion.
Take it down like a painting covering a crack, throw it off like a mask. Destroy them. Crush it in your hand. I did. It felt amazing to me. Would it to you? Take a try, throw all you know away. Spin it around and turn it about face sharply, watch as it dissolves into illusion. A complete illusion.
We walk these paths, side by side, never crossing. Can they be crossed? Can one ever change lanes, lenses? My mind is my road, your mind your road, and perhaps there is only room for one on each. I will learn to try to know you. I will learn where the illusion falls. If it is the void between minds, I will know you. If the illusion is the idea of empathy, then may we continue in our own thoughts, never knowing another’s. Or perhaps, may we give in to the comfort of illusion.