I often think of myself as a demon.
I recently had a full on acid experience in which I were a demon from another dimension trapped in this human body. I didn’t know how to operate, I didn’t know how to speak and the little human thoughts stuck in my little human brain in my tiny human skull felt useless to a painful degree. It was as if I were a pure demoniac consciousness, vibrating, stuck in this shell that someone put a spell on.
Did I deserve to be trapped? Did I deserve to be downgraded like that? I cannot stop thinking about it and I can’t convince my mind that it was just an acid trip. But after twelve painful hours of pure nightmare, I adapted back to my human form because there is something here I have to do. There is someone I am looking for, maybe even parts of myself. What if it’s a puzzle? What if I am collecting my shuttered soul in the eyes of other humans? Some are so voracious, they will take anything from you before you realise you have no soul of theirs and they have taken away another little crystal from you.
I kept thinking about Conor (I know, right?) and his energy and how perfectly it clicked with mine. I was convinced that we were demons from the same dimension, that’s why we knew how to blend our human shells together and unleash this antique viscous darkness, all the fucked up games we play, the lack of seriousness towards this life we have. If we are confined to this universe and there is no way out until it’s time, whatever the fuck time is, we might as well have fun.
I was devastated to realise that Conor was not under the bed with me and I had no way to communicate with him because our bodies were not in the same space. Yes, by the way, I spent circa four hours under the bed. I even had a moment when I realised that I’d be laughing about it in the future, so I wrote a note to myself that I read only a few hours later and it made perfect sense. I’m a funny guy even when no one is there to see it, and that was a soothing realisation.
I thought about Hoss, and how we used to say we were made from the same neutron star, and my stupid human brain couldn’t understand why it was over, and what has changed, and why his atoms didn’t recognise mine anymore. Did I oscillate the wrong way? Did something change in the cosmic background’s vibration? Did he... find a better demon to play with? Did he realise I hold no bits of his soul? Or did he take what was his and our time was over? Because I don’t feel like my soul is any closer to being complete.
After many hours, I got used to having hands and I was getting less and less confused by the words such as “reality”, “consciousness”, “time”, “space”, “human”. Well, almost.
I had so much compassion for this physical form, the same way I would feel compassion for a cat not understanding why it’s being fed at the wrong hour. It has no fucking clue.
Now... When I talk, when I walk and when I breathe, I can almost observe myself from behind my face. But when I fuck, when I feel pain, when I allow myself to open to pleasure, I feel closer to my demoniac pure essence, and that’s when it integrates with my body so perfectly I hardly feel the distinction between brain, mind, body and consciousness. It’s imperative that I connect only with the right kind of demons, I can’t violate this human pet of mine or it’ll break. And I don’t know if I feel happy with this little cosy post acid shield, or if it’s dehumanising to a preoccupying degree, but it feels very respectful to my beliefs and my will to exist on this plane of reality.
After all, I am searching for my soul.
myself by Kriz Barvsson