Working backwards, I seek to construct something. In the beginning of the story there was a person named Zilna. Zilna walked to the store to receive goods in exchange for their money. Xe picked up some goods, they made xir way back home. Where xe goes, it is not known. Zilna not yet has a home, and not yet has anyone around xir by which to call a fellow of the same common experience of xirself. Xe is merely a thought, xe does not yet have thoughts of xir own.

A story must start with a being. Thrust from nothing into existence. Even third person accounts, factual and historical. They originate from the unspoken narrator, from the eyes of the bird, from the eyes of the Geologist. We can only speak from the words salient to our perceptions.

Zilna walks into a house which just appeared. Zilna opens the door, but on the other side, it is blank. Where am I? Asks Zilna. On the other side of the door, it becomes apparent to Zilna that the around xir is strange and unfamiliar. With a recallection of world’s unknown, it becomes apparent that the world behind the door is nothing. It is the colors beyond the eye lids when they are closed. ASSFasddfgssdgfjkashdg says Zilna. Words errupt from the mouth as though from a bubbling pipped up from the depths of the earth, muffled by flapping lips at the precipice. There is no context which through culture words take meaning. Like a fish, Zilna bubbles and bubbles more incoherent jibberish, expressing what writers throughout the ages have tried to put into words. asdfgjahdfa sfdfdGASDFGASDDFSGFADFGGasdejfgasdfasdfsdkfjfhasD FAWEFRFASDDFSGASDFhsjdkfjhagsdkjfhgashdfghaksejfs dfafaSDFASD FASEDFHA ERGSRTKLGdkjfakjsdhfd. Zilna does not know of science. Breath, skin, color, texture, these are all things which we learn of when we are born. The feeling of resistance, pushing ones hand against a surface and feeling it push back. Lights and colors form around Zilna as though a universe were being formed, darks and lights eminating out of darkness, of the darkest patches of black. Colors forming as elements transpose themselves create dimensions, depth, formations of the color spectrum unfold in a tremendous display of life unfolding. The universe bounces off itself, forms black holes spiralling out and matter and creating exposions in the time space continuum, as the universe expands.

Zilna observes this, but does not remember any of it. How can one put context to such things? Only through the recognition of the self. That oneself is one, and that another thing is another. Zilna watched the birth of xir own cosmos, and then xe is an inextricable part of it. Somewhere in Zilna’s mind, where the cosmos was created, xe imagines xirself. Xe imagines that xe is born. Xe grows up through the customs which give xir words and xe does not remember xir’s origins, that xe is the universe looking at itself from within. Xe grows impatient looking for philosophical answers, and xe seeks to find answers and looks to philosophy. Xe seeks self transcendance. Xe imagines xirself as the beginning of the universe, and looks out at xirself looking within. Xir, the duality of cosmos and self, imagines xirself within a reality in itselffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff fffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff fffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff fffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff. Imaginations within the mind become indistinguishable between reality and fantasy, because the fantasy is what is created by the coupling of cosmos and mind.

Trying to imagine xirself, xe constructs the cosmos, xirself to view xirself, and a reflextion of xirself in which to imagine imagining xirself. Is xe the one who contemplates xirself, is it the imagination which contemplates xe? Or is it the cosmos which contemplates xe? Some would say the imagination. Some would say the cosmos. Some would say xirself is the imaginary one, thought up in some other being’s head. Xe sits down to speak, as though to the cosmos, in order to speak to xirself. Where is the fear inside of xir? Mundane, bored, xe sits in front of xir creation and scoffs. Xe throws up xir arms in divine indifference, throws them up in the air to the outer self, looking out, looking in, sitting in between contemplating the contemplator. Created itself. Xe sees the world in front of xirself through which xe reaches out for xirself to grasp xirself at the door from which xe opened. Xe opens xir eyes. , and xe cannot even remember the beginning of the universe itself, but xe sits bewildered and puzzling at the vast question of the cosmos.

Contemplate not the world around yourself, if only to touch the world, and be touched. In order to reflect, on the colors, the dimensions. The mathematics. The philosophy. The literature which divines the human experience. Construct, per chance, destroy. Fear not. Fear lurks in the deepest corners like monsters and shadows which the mind constructs. The fact of the matter is, monsters are nothing. There is no such thing as good or bad in the divine indifference. Desires construct attachments to the colors. To value the shiniest objects. To search for knowledge. To have the capacity to control the world with ease. Striking but fear into the minds of others, others who awoke in the cosmos to observe is what some choose to do. Supplantment of some values are instilled in Zilna from birth, some values Zilna may instill in yet another being, some values Zilna chooses to retain. Some values will be valuable on the mere fact that they are valuable to others, but Zilna finds xir own values.

The vanity of desire, Zilna throws xir arms in the air at the world xe is continually figuring out. Each piece of the puzzle another part to add to the world xe constructs. Another piece to add to the never ending mystery. Xilna walks around the world and it unfolds to xe. It becomes more familiar. Until eventually Zilna would supposedly die. They rise up, become aware of their own existence, and the existence of themselves as though looking from without, within. The reflection in the mirror. Memories. Perceptions. And then shuffle away, an actor walking off the stage, tossing ones hat into the middle of the stage as they walk away. The curtain closes. Zilna ceases to exist. Zilna is forgotten in the minds of some, remembered in the minds of others. Until all blinks out, a happy ending is what Zilna hopes for xirself. At times a angry being, at times a loving being, who only wished for other beings to love other beings. Hatred. Fear. Anger. Jealousy. Desire. These are things which of course Zilna felt, although contrary to Zilna’s ultimate desire for love to rule all. Nothing could make this desire arise from the universe spontaniously. The world befor Zilna’s eyes simply roles about outside of xir control, in chaos. Will Zilna be torn apart by shrapnal on a battle field some day? Zilna would never put xirself in something so small and insignificant as the affairs of some fucking country. Zilna wishes to be cozy, to sip coffee, and to listen to beautiful music. To wake up and see something which warms xir heart. Tired of the lies and bullshit of the world, seeking to be loved as though a child is loved, as Zilna’s parents were so warm and loving. Xe wants all to love each other unconditionally, as a xir parents love xir. To feel free from the hatred of the world, to relinquish the norms and customs in which people demonize one another. To feel love.

But to explore the dark reaches of the cosmos, as well as the light, where from the dark comes unknown. From the light in which the familiar resides. To construct in the mind a philosophy both beautiful and scientific. To wed the scientific, the philosophical, the poetic, the musical, the dance of the senses which one plays on a stage, and feels in the actor which plays the set. To feel as the actor in that part. To feel free. To transcend beyond. But Zilna is afraid to transcend beyond. Zilna sits back down and retreats back into xirself, where xe suffices to merely imagine the transposition was a failure. To disconnect would be render Zilna a stranger, incomprehensible yet again. So Zilna is bound to the customs of the society Zilna was born into, and to retreat into the infinite in spite of the horrible desires inflicted upon Zilna.

Zilna sits. Zilna sees. Zilna not me. I am not Zilna. I sit and Zilna sits. This imaginary being. Never had much of a physical description I suppose. Spoke some words. We, to each other. Hi Zilna. Hi you. How are you doing? I suppose I’m doing fine. I always wanted to talk with another version of me. So have I, you. Zilna, do you know why it is difficult to construct thoughts to others? Yes, you, it is because others cannot know you. I agree, Zilna, but how can one talk to oneself and have oneself respond? I don’t know, that is a good question. I think that what is going on between us right now is simply a strange dialog, which doesn’t intend to go anywhere. Then why would one talk to oneself, if the dialog were only going to go nowhere? Well, you, perhaps when you say something you say, you will find something you said interesting. Perhaps you can think of something you never thought of before. But, Zilna, how can you ever gain knowledge from within yourself alone, you must have education. It’s taken us years to gain this education through which we can articulate our thoughts to others. Yes, you, it’s taken years. We have written some mathematical equasions and made some scientific discoveries, but that knowledge is limited. Perhaps only a small elite group of scientists understand the Cosmos to such an extent that it can relieve them of their inner sense of self. Zilna, have not the religious attempted to provide answers to these things? Yes, you. Some religious do attempt to provide answers, but as far as metaphysical answers go, these can only shape perception, not the mathematical instruments through which we gain more knowledge of how the world outside our heads work. Through our own thought, we can only glean so much. Through literature perhaps we can glean some truth about others, and we can experience strange feelings others may feel. Do we not have answers to these questions, Zilna? Yes, you, we have some which give our experience an inductive sort of certainty, and we can say that these inductive principles give us somewhat of a deductive certainty in some of the ways things are categorical. For instance, you are you, and if you were not you that would be a contradiction. I suppose that is true. You are you, I am I. We are us. Together we are one.

omg loaf you are too much