The Library

Standing in the middle of a library. Surrounding by knowledge, wisdom, and inspiration. What to read? What to study? Diverse genres of literature. Teachings of love: The Bible, The Qur’an, The Tao Te Ching, The Four Noble Truths of Buddhism, The Book of Mormon and Metaphysics. Teachings of discrimination: Government Propaganda, Avaricious Societies, and Linear Systems of Consumerism. Teachings of meaning: Existentialism, Nihilism, Instinctivism, and Darwinism. A perpetual list of conversion.

Standing there, brain overloaded with confusion. An ineffable feeling of the unfamiliar. Can’t quite put my finger on it. Something feels wrong. Knowledge does not seem to be knowledge at all. It’s as if, knowledge has been manipulated (or mutated) in favor of whom ever chooses to give it. Nothing feels real, my mind spaces in empty corners of new thought provoking idealism. What should I do? Should I choose something? Should I walk away? Should I question how these thoughts were created? Do people think this way? Is it just me? Is it you?

I grow nervously, hands began trembling. I lose sight of who I am, what I am... why I am. My peripheral vision captures photogenic copies of people, yet I can not sense them. Reality tells me they are there, but mentalism swallows reality’s roots. I’m lost, deep in thought. Perception becomes illusionary. Fantasy weaving force. Science seems shattered with a potent thought. Omnifarious wisdom crushing my pathetic and arrogant knowledge. As if I’m shedding an old shell, moving into another. Strange. Bizarre. Mystifying. Can you feel it?

Consciousness eases my mind. Checkpoint. I’m back. “What was that?” I asked myself. I don’t know. I walk out the library, questioning why did I walk-in, in the first place. This is not the first time for me. For whatever reason, it’s a continuous pattern of recedivious gasps. As if, knowledge itself was trying to tell me something. As I look over my shoulder one last time, I notice the library is not what it seems.