The process of writing is an amazing one, when you think about it. You take something that exists only as a thought, an ephemeral concept at best, and transform it into something that exists in the world, as something semi-permanent. It's part of the reason we call it the creative process. But sometimes, if you step back and look at it, it can take on deeper connotations, especially when you already have a mind bent toward the supernatural and occult.
I mean, what are thoughts, really? Yes, you can track chemical and physical reactions as we have them, but replicate those in another person, and they won't have the same thought. Sometimes, you have to wonder, if maybe there is something ineffable about thoughts. And that's what's started to worry me. You see, I suffer from a wide variety of mental problems. Depression, OCD, Hypomania. Nothing too traumatic and all completely manageable. But, you see, in that last sentence, I was going to say it wasn't dangerous, but I changed my mind. At least I think I did.
And this is where we come to whats been stuck in my thought for awhile now. A couple months ago, I started experiencing strange impulses. Sudden urges to say or do things and I couldn't explain why. It felt like I was having someone else's thoughts in my head. And then I started to think about all the little personal memes I have, thanks to my OCD. They're all illogical and silly, from singing songs with nonsense lyrics, to odd little turns of phrase I like to use. See, now, while writing that last sentence I had to struggle to remember what I wanted to write, even though I've been going over what I want to write it in my head for days now. Like the thoughts hid in my brain. And that's what I'm worried about.
See, when we create something, either by writing or speaking, painting or carving it, or even acting it out,we bring forth these ideas in our head and give them a new form. This form is sometimes a physical one, but sometimes auditory, and sometimes visual. We created a new form for the thought. But what if some of these thoughts were expressing aren't really 'thoughts' at all?
God, it's getting hard to write again for some reason, even though I've been dwelling on this for days. See, what I'm getting at is that if, when some people do those little rituals, typing or speaking nonsense, they're giving form to something that isn't really something they thought of. We've all misspoken or written nonsense at some point in our lives, and then someone else has heard, seen or interacted with it. Huh, that's odd, I had to go back and add 'seen' to that previous sentence, even though I could've sworn that was the first word I wanted to use.
Anyway, now that communicated 'thought' is loose in their head, gathering their attention before being relegated to the back of the mind. And back there, it's starting to fester, to wriggle it's way into other thoughts, squirming behind our conscious mind like an infestation until we too do something that lets it out. But it's still in us, still infecting our minds, still growing like a pus-filled cyst in our consciousness. Why did I use the phrase "pus-filled cyst' in the previous sentence? Better go back and erase that.
So now, these "thoughts" are in our heads, and they are growing unchecked, maybe crowding out our real thoughts with themselves. And of course we would never know the difference, because the "thoughts" have become part of us, our heads worm-riddled with strange things. God, it's getting difficult to explain, maybe I should take a break. Wait, why did I type stuff, better delete it.
And now that the thoughts are lose in our minds, there's no stopping them. After all, our minds are who we are and what we perceive. The worms could hide our actions from ourselves by not letting us perceive them. And so, the alien puppeteer has become us, and we are but a shell. Why did I write all this, good reader? I don't know, I've just been feeling like writing this for the past couple days. Maybe you should worry about that.
Alright, good effort for a stream of consciousness style piece. I should really clean it up before posting it though. God, that got hard to write towards the end. The weird bits flowed out easily, but some of those details I meant to include kept slipping my mind. I feel like I should start making notes somewhere. Wait...am I still writing things? Why am I still.. Not feeling well. Better go lay down. I'll clean it up and post it later. I mean, it's not like anyone wants to read these oh god I'm typing again. No, oh god...
They're real.