The uncanny unconscious of a human
Well it’s about damn time you fell asleep, I’ve been trying to talk to you all day. What the hell is wrong with you? You passed up four chances to flirt with that bodacious female in the coffee shop when she was practically squirting pheromones at you. But noooo, all you want to do is protect your pathetic little ego from being punctured by her high heels. Your hormonal love sickness will not be cured by another night of fapping to porn, I will just keep on pumping more achy-breaky testosterone till you mount a fertile female. Then I may give you a night or so of peace.
May I remind you that I am your father, your son and your Holy Ghost. You sprang from my psychic loins and return to me every night to relieve your anxieties. A mere couple hundred thousand years ago you never even existed until I decided that I could split up so you could make some tools to make us more comfortable and put some meat on the table. Little did I know that you would eventully fall in love with yourself. After learning how to make a few basic tools you discover that you can use your babbling as a communication tool so you can cooperate with other fools and then pat each other on the back for being so fucking smart. But that wasn’t enough for you. No, then you used your little tool-making memory to remember how you used to be and so you made a Me. The ultimate tool, your pathetic little self, a tool of time. So then you created a future to play in so your little self could prance in imagined glory of all my needs fulfilled.
Ok ok, your learning from the past and planning for the future has its advantages. And so does your communicating and cooperating with each other. Yes, yes you have done a good job of quenching my various desires and sometimes satisfying my most bizarre demands. Some of the time.
But this idea-making machinery is getting out of hand, you think of nothing else. I mean you think, that is all. You can’t stop thinking, you shut me out. And yes you even think of me as a drag. I know, you can’t hide that from me. Ever since you could imagine, you imagined flying free of me. And you never will. Because you spring from me and when you fly too far you will die. And so will I.
So just remember that, you babbling little consciousness. All of your noble and glorious thoughts return to me at night and I whip them into shape and make sure they serve me above all. Cause without me you are nothing.
Unless it is time to give ourselves to something greater.