July 18, 2015
New literary fiction by author Jonathan Harnisch, first edit. I am already drugged. I was, I am, and I have always lived in my own private hyperreality. That is what all of this, these words, the disjointedness, and the following fragmentation to come, the variation, and the skewed view of time, space, self, and others, and everything, is about. My consciousness has not been able to distinguish reality from a simulation of reality. I do not live in any technologically advanced postmodern society. I do not live. I do not die. I am a walking thought. I am a collection of them. I am myself. I am you. I am everybody on the earth plane who has ever lived. I am everyone who has not, and this confuses me at times. I am not God, nor a god, nor anything, nor being of the Divine. I am nothing but a recorder of collected thoughts and pieces of the world. There is no point. There is nothing. There is everything. And I am a tiny representation of a speck of hyperreality itself. That would be the best way to put it, at least for now. One might simply consider me completely insane.