the visit

Reluctantly, the boy walked in.  He'd been curious about this place since before conception; and now he was at the door, as though some innate force had driven him here.  As he walked in, he realized right away that this was going to be different; this place was going to be an experience.  The air was cooler, and yet... it felt warmer as he began to sweat.  It was darker than outside; hardly any light, with colors of black, white and grey.  It was weird.  An air of discomfort penetrated his soul; a panicky, embarrassing feeling of regret already.  But he decided, as with no choice at all, to continue.

Walking deeper into this silent edifice, he noticed still people; paying no mind to him as he wondered around.  He saw some warring with one another; others loving others.  He saw through the thoughts of them all as though there were spherical screens projecting every neural connection; not in zeros and ones, but in words of revelation; a matrix of the intricate insides of every person he passed.  Most were negative, thinking about manipulation and greed; naturally aiming to survive in a place of unknown purpose.  Most noticably was the air; it was addicting... as much as he wanted to leave, this air was pulling him in; not with force, but by making his existence nothing without it. 

After what seemed like only minutes, after lights out and on a number of times, he became in love with this place.  He forgot about his discomforts and he sunk into the comfort of addiction.  Addiction to this air, to this feeling of corrected placement.  The longer he stayed in this place, the greater was the fade of the outside.  Even now, after such a short time, the realm outside the door was but a cloud of something too difficult to make out; too much to make sense of.  The boy's simplicity had become more novice.  The world he knew, the one that made sense without effort, was soon fading into a world without understanding, but with comfortable numbness for careless disinterest. 

He had become a victim of the nature of this place.  He could not survive without this air.  He could not function without the intake of the substance prepared for him.  So much was taken away, and yet so much was required to stay. 

He soon became bored.  He sat back and noticed the disgust of what surrounded him.  War.  Profit.  Greed.  A nature requiring abhorrent deeds in order to survive.  He saw that others, too, had become bored.  As he considered leaving, he was attracted by how others had convinced themselves of acceptable paradigms.  Paradigms which made fabricated truths about this place of wonder.  He noticed some trying to help others.  He liked this.  Altruism appeared sensical.  And yet, it was entirely outside of the nature required to survive in this place; it was a piece of the outside let in with the wind of reminiscence.  He noticed that on a communal level, this house was continuing its existence by unselfishly assisting others cope with the disgusting reality of this place. 

But why?  Why coerce an untruth in order to remain in a place we can escape?  They answered death with eternity.  They answered nature with forgiveness.  They played games with the minds of others; all the while gradually convincing themselves of the rules they created.  Like a rat in a cage, the boy felt entirely alone; residing in a crowd of people seemingly unconvinced that they once saw for themselves the true spectrum of colors of existence.  In this place, it seems like such a shame.  Instead of in color, their perception is in black and white; with an occassional grey from what they call pundits. 

Aggravated, humilaited, deceived; the boy ran for the door.  He was tripped by the orators and imposers of love.  He was drawn in by familiarity; not of the outside, but of the addictions he had acquired from within.  At times, on his path to the door, he stumbled.  He wrongly identified his blemishes as imposed from within while they were truly caused from without.  At times, he dashed for the door, nearly feeling the lack of this airy addiction; only to be drawn back in by false comfort.  He found what insiders called poisons.  Instead of slowing his return to understanding, as those within cautioned, he found the poisons to be helpful for his return; they clarified his perceptions, making such a relative change in his senses that he almost felt a pinch of the outside as he consumed.  However, at times, the poisons took away his ability to perceive as was necessary to escape.  At just the right moments, it helped.  At the wrong moments, it drove him deeper into the comforts of discomfort. 

He entered into relationships with others which dug deeper the whole of unwillingness to escape.  He became aware that others decidedly neglected the truth, because it was comfortable to remain fixed in their hypnosis.  The boy became sympathetic toward those around him; recognizing as with himself, these shackles of perceiveable happiness were hard to loosen or break away from.  These things to which he was bound to within this place, these people with whom he struggled, this air to which he was addicted; it all mounted to strengths beyond his control.  He had become fixated on mistruths; bound by the air he breathed; addicted to his love for others - those he felt he must comfort instead of convince. 

Though everything looked different now, he knew it was all the same.  He was aware of the infinite realm of existence outside.  He was aware of the forces which drove others to this addiction of omission.  He would sink to the depths of deception, concentrating on smiles and laughter - those invaluable remedies for the dispicable reality that these people created; realities of limits and control; horizons and blockades. 

Knowing the outside was there, trapped inside this building of colorless reality, the boy walked to his place of comfort.  Deep beneath the staircase, through the tunnels of darkness, with gradual removal of the addictive air and substance, he had journeyed through the unknown.  He found a lens of perfection; spectacles which allowed him to make colorful this world of self-deception.  Next to these magical lenses, the boy had found a separate staircase which led to his comfortable place.  A pathway to the outside; a paradigm of truth, comfort, and infinte understanding. 

He turned around; returning to the deep inside.  With knowledge of the outside, he could remind those within of the colors, the pleasantries, and the comforts of being addicted to nothing; no air, no substance; only being.  By smiling, loving, and embracing the others - by truly embracing the message of those past figures who tried to shine light on how to live -  the boy understood that he could make a difference.  He could share his glimpses of reality; hoping not to convince, but to invite. 

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