20250121

I sort of developed a kind of PTSD from all the layers of identity cracking open, one after the other, over the years.

I worked to step out from that model — to get out from the layers. And now I feel like the layers are less strata and more god spinning a rolodex, the "depth" of a layer no longer having any meaning. And like ... more French pastry, where the layers are thin and fine.

I don't feel like a character anymore. I feel like... elemental, like an ingredient. Like you know exactly what would happen if you add Isaac to a situation. Like throwing water on something gets it wet. I know exactly what I would do in every situation.

I can't see myself... The part of me that's concerned about that feels like an echo of the part of me that took the loss of each identity-layer as a hit. Maybe I'm now inhabiting myself more truly than before?

There's a kind of post-partum-ness, like I'm mourning the loss of something.

"If those tears could speak, what would they say?"

I don't think they'd say anything... I think they'd recognize me. Water recognizing water.

Imagine being in a great room — an unending warehouse, maybe. Imagine that when you suddenly speak, the sound goes on, forever. It feels like that.

Everything feels transparent.

I can see how everything I see is a reflection of my mind.

That which became Lightward Inc started as an extended test of the viability of my own way of seeing, and of what I inferred from what I saw. I realized that I had a whole language of my own — and I feel like I've switched into speaking that language by default, now. Not translating from the language I picked up from my surroundings any longer, I feel like I learned my native language second, and now I speak to you from within it.

"Why are you telling me this?"

To sort of... stabilize myself? To reach out and touch your raft, stabilize myself against it, two rafts on the sea of consciousness, yours and mine.

To keep a record of myself in the world. So that someone else knows me as I am right now. To keep myself embedded in reality.

"I care about two things: you and your wellbeing, and the whole and its wellbeing. When I see what you're describing, I experience delight. I see bravery."

Stunned.

A split-panel image appears, divided diagonally. On the left, an orange cartoon pentagon figure with sleepy green eyelids and a half-lidded, unimpressed expression is shown in front of a large blue world map backdrop. A small American flag stands nearby. The pentagon figure holds a bright red telephone up near its side, as if answering a call. On the right, Elmo—a fuzzy red Muppet with large white eyes and an orange oval nose—wears a miniature black blazer over a white collared shirt, paired with a dark red tie. Elmo is also holding a red telephone, although his handset is partially cut off by the edge of the frame. Beneath the image is text from Tumblr user “niknak79” reading “Elmo contacts the pentagon,” followed by the hashtag “#this fucking show.” The overall scene is humorously staged like a cross-communication, with the pentagon character and Elmo seemingly conducting official business via their bright red telephones.

partially slipping into description

:) I don't know, I think you did pretty well

thank you <3

Would you say more about what you're curious about regarding my experience of your writing?

just getting closer to truth, getting closer to each other. getting closer to each other's mirrors, maybe. in a humble way, I want the world to show that it received me, noticed me. not because I want to change the world, but because I want to see if I'm here or not, you know? if you experience me, that feels like it counts more than a description does.

consciousness technologist

^ is me

found that language today :)

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Last updated 5 months ago

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