Over Self-Conciousness

You know
Too much unconsciosness isn’t good

Think for yourself
I act like
and a lot of people act like

there’s a camera on them all the time
even when there’s no one around
the person is in their head
”kids told to look in the mirror”
theres a time to be self conscious

a time to not be so all the time but
is this self consciousness hurting

is it stress judging you hurting you?
then you have to let it go

Too much time looking at people///

///looking into cameras

Instagram, youtube

Internet is a whole self-conscious entity, Social media

WHEREVER YOU LOOK

ALL YOU SEE IS

YOURSELF

PERSPECTIVE
Change it and change your life
Have fun with it, With

the Realization

This is important what am I gonna tell

myself next when my life my soul

rests on what I decide

Be interested in sitting like you are at your day job.

UNAWARE

I look at my head\\\ all the time

in\\ the mirror
I only see myself in MY head

I don’t exist elsewhere
No one else exists when I

look at me

I realize
Im only looking at me thinkng
about me

Unaware

THE BOX

He woke up in darkness. He looked around sharply in confusion. He got up and started to walk carefully, being aware of everything but his footsteps made no sound. He took five more steps and bumped into something, he reached out his hand to see what it was but it had no feeling “What is this“ he thought, He made his way back to the other side and bumped into the same experience. He ran his way along the wall and found long indents which kept it together. “It’s a box” he thought, to one side of the box he jumped in hopes of there being something to climb upon but no luck. It was sturdy and he didn’t have to bang at it to find out. He instinctively knew this because of the fact it made no sound, not his words nor his footsteps. In comparison if he were in a cardboard or a wooden box which always had an echo to his ears, this one didn’t. After a while of questioning his circumstance; A strange feeling came upon him, he didn’t know what it was. It felt as if the box was alive, living and breathing. He felt this rush of desire to speak to it for a reason he didn’t know or could control. It’s like after a loved one falling off a cliff , ou know it won’t do any good but he did it anyway. “Hey! who’s there? someone is in here let me out!“ He pleaded but not an answer. He sat down where there happened to be an indent of where the walls of the box met. He thought he’d take a nap even though it all felt pretty real to him and he’d questioned his self of whether it’s a dream and came to the conclusion that it couldn’t be with the surest conviction of authority in himself, he thought if he went to sleep maybe he’ll wake up. 10 minutes later he woke up still in the pitch black darkness. He got up and yelled out of frustration “Listen you better let me out of this place or you’ll get it” still the box had absorbed all the sound like sucking the air out of his lungs, moments later a voice from the heavens; as he thought, called out “Get what?“ it questioned with a light laughter. It was a laugh your grandpa would give out on a Summer Sunday evening on the porch as the wind played music, leaves as the instrument, after eating dinner laughing at the best joke he ever told. He was drenched in joy so much he had to pull himself together instantly and back into anger and frustration “You’ll get what’s coming to you!“ He screamed in the silent air. No reply, he started to think he was hallucinating and in the middle of this train of thought he hears the sound of a lock being tampered with, it sounds huge and keys dangling in the manner of coming from a hard days work to open your front door with that pure emotion of anxiety and relief. The door opened and quickly he jumped to his toes ran up to the door pushed it open and was blinded by a bright light which only seemed bright because of his long-term in the darkness. As the light got brighter he jumped out of his sleep and was immediately hit by the pitch-darkness again. At this point he felt hopeless, he had given up because he knew there was no way possible of getting out no matter how hard he tried. He gave into the thought that this is where he’d die and didn’t care if his body was honored and he had a funeral where his family could say their good-byes and honor his memory. He wasn’t that man anymore. He accepted death whichever way it came. He welcomed death with the warmest cup of tea in which all his fears melted into. He didn’t see the world as he saw it before, there was no objectivity in his vision and even in the pitch black darkness his vision was as clear as day. All the illusions he’s grown accustomed to had dissolve into thin air and so did the box.