An Open Letter To Humans Stuck in Their Own Heads

Since everyone is writing open letters

Captivity is so damn normal to those born into it

You are confined in prison, separated — totally cut off.

Your destiny is to depart from everyone, everything and you are eternally bound to the cellmate from hell that never shuts up like the home end at a Crystal Palace match.

You look OUT at the world, reaching out, wanting. Trapped in the body — fucking claustrophobic hell.

But you have to laugh.

You lick empty flavours like Willy Wonka’s wallpaper — proudly discussing their snozberric complexity like someone who has brushed their teeth with chocolate toothpaste but never heard of a Snickers.

You eat the prison gruel of solid food and shit into the metal dump hole of truth — a symbol of your connectedness to others and your long lost cousin unfabricated euphoric reality.

Thin walls surround you — no more than a mental creation — karmic bricks and mortar that continually propel you to sustain your misery.

You can only inhabit specific phenomena due to your inherent lack of limitation. Your delusion is your freedom.

But only Buddhas know the difference between dwelling and being trapped.

And captivity is so damn normal to those born into it.

Anything else seems like science fiction.

It is unfabricated inclusion — totally free of complexity.

Relativity is senseless, and yet, you take it as your default.

Voltaire taught us it is no more surprising to be born twice than to be born once.

The first time you witness the baking of a loaf, it is magic.

The second time, it’s just fucking bread.

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