I live in Belfast. It’s a very small city with a population of under 500,000 humanoids yet it still has the city mentality. Everyone is moving so fast and they seem to be dreadfully annoyed. It’s a strange way to live. I try to avoid going into town as much as possible because for some bizarre reason which I’ve yet to suss out completely folk see me as, ‘the one who must be shouted at’. Whether I’m walking, cycling, driving or floating certain angry citizens feel the need to vent at me. I’ve become so used to it that it hardly registers anymore, but today it was noted by someone else very close to me. They’ve been noticing since they met me this time around. They said that people pick on me and that they seem to see me as a walk-over.
I’ve had men screaming at me from cars, girls shouting at me in the street, shop-workers pushing me out of the way and the general public walking straight into me as though I occupy no apparent space. I can’t be a ghost because they tend to be meaning to do me harm as though I have substance in their eyes.
I walk tall. My mum told me when I was a kid to put my head in the air, that I had just as much right to walk as anyone else, but I guess she told me that because I felt overwhelmed by the humans. I know I’m human in this existence yet I don’t quite feel completely one of them. I don’t understand why anyone would willfully inflict pain on another being. I don’t understand the love of money and ownership or the games of power. I look at the sky or the light-play on the buildings and wonder to myself, Am I dreaming?
I know I’m not alone in this. I believe we all feel this interjection into this mass hallucination of reality from another place. Some of us choose to ignore it but most I would say really do register it. The ones of us who are angry and shout at ‘humans’ like me because ‘humans’ like me seem open and stick out like sore digits are themselves in a state of flux, caught up in emotions which they cannot accept, locked into a prison of reality where left is left and down is very much concrete. There is no life after death. When you’re dead you’re dead, case closed. There is no meaning, just mortgages, kids and work. That’s it.
I represent an alternative viewpoint, one which seems like too much ‘work’ to even begin to understand, but I truly believe that everyone can feel the pulse from the other worlds, it’s just that a lot of folk are scared of the beautiful immensity of it all. It’s easier to just plug in, switch off and put those blinkers on.
Sometimes I think we should be wiped out, let an asteroid hit or the aliens blast us from the galaxy and then I remember that I don’t care. I have my own path. I’m just passing through doing my own thing, picking up some stuff and chucking a lot over the side of the boat. This life is not the end, it’s merely a blip, but what an interesting blip it is.