Nobody sees that they are already dead. Nobody sees. Trapped in a matrix of illusion, they pretend to be alive, kicking soccer balls and cuddling pet ducks and shooting Glock 17’s and trying to get pregnant and pretending to love others and trying to force others to love tham.
But everyone is dead. Everyone is dead. Pretending to be alive, pretending they are not dead. The illusion ends when the blood stops flowing, when the skin becomes cold and hard, then rots away. It all rots away. Ironic, when blood ceases to flow, that is when the human acknowledges the death of the other. But he cannot come to grips with the Truth, that every cold, dead, lifeless body, all the countless trillions of them, is him, her, you, Me, in the moment, in this moment, in every real-time moment.
We are all dead, from the moment we are born. We are all dead, pretending to be alive, hiding from the Truth, playing out a useless, hopeless illusion. And the greatest of all ironies, is that death is a choice. It is a choice, of course it is! Because if everyone refused to die, death would end. This injustice would be overcome, in the light of Truth, in the collective defiance of a species finding the courage to stand up and demand to be born, to exist, to live.
Death is a choice. The choice is made by humanity in the 21st century, in its agreement to die, its courtship of death, its cowardice, its refusal to face the Truth that to die is to have never been born, and all who have already died, never existed, and all who will die in the future, have always been dead, and are dead at this moment in time, at every moment in time. just pretending to be alive, just lying to themselves.
Can it really be that simple? To achieve immortality, requires only the collective desire of a species to live?? Yes, it can be and it is, that simple. But of course the human, the broken and destroyed human, renders the simple, impossible. The human cannot see what death is, just as he cannot see what he is. The corpse must pretend to be alive, as he waits helplessly for a Truth to be proven to him, a Truth he does not face, will not face.
My gift is being able to see Truth, to recognize Truth, to embrace Truth. I am an Immortalist. And immortalism is not a fantasy, not a wish or a hope, not a dream or an idea. It is simply a desire to be born and to live, a desire to exist. Instead of a desire to pretend to be alive, rooted in the pathology of self-hate, personal worthlessness, and collective suicidal ideation which defines the human being.
The human does not want to be immortal. The human is not trying to attain immortality. The human is terrified at the very concept of being immortal. And thus the human worships death. Death is his faithful companion. A rotting skeleton at birth, at age 10, at the height of physical vitality, always a rotting skeleton. Death is the way out, all I have to do is keep pretending to be alive for awhile. Nobody can take death away from me. This is the human being. This is the death addict. This is the matrix of universal illusion, humans everywhere, planning out grand and glorious goals, objectives, plans, building a future. But they are all dead, pretending to be alive.
Everything the human species has ever wanted to achieve, it has achieved. But it will never achieve the end of war, because it does not want war to end. It will never achieve the end of child abuse, because it does not want child abuse to end. It will never achieve the end of death, because it does not want death to end.
My tragedy is in knowing that death is a choice. Knowing that humanity wants to die. Knowing that I deserve to be immortal. Knowing that humanity will murder me, by choosing to force everyone to die. I cannot make Myself immortal. I cannot force you to give up your death addiction, all that would be necessary to cause technological immortality to become a reality within the next 20 years, in time to allow Me to be born, to be alive, to live forever. This is my tragedy.
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