There once was a man with a broken voice. He could speak when he could, and he
couldn’t when he couldn’t. It might seem simple enough, but to the man itself it was a
grave problem. You see, he always wanted to speak his mind, but his body wouldn’t let
him. Allow me to elaborate, so that you yourself can understand why a man's own voice
could ever be restricted in such a way…

In his younger years, the man would be the odd one out. He was himself, but that
didn’t seem to be sufficient. Was it the way he brushed his teeth? Was it the way he said
his R? No one really knows because it was never truly spoken. All they knew was that
he was different. Different from who you ask? Different from the majority. Ahh yes, the
majority. Always the standard in such cases. “The majority” seems to be likesided with
what is correct. If you are a minority yourself, you will know what I am talking about.
How come it is that way? How come the truth is equal to most? It is not so, and yet…
That is how it is. The man asked himself these very questions on several occasions.
However… A straight answer was never found.

Too many years had gone without reasoning. Too many years without true answers.
This took a toll on the man. He was left dumbfounded. He, an otherwise smart fella,
could not figure out what he had done wrong. So it is, when there is no wrongdoing to
be found, but a sentence still stands. It is marvelous isn’t it. How fellow men can form a
militia in a manner of seconds. As if Frankensteins Monster was roaming the streets
with no thought besides creating havoc. That never happened. And just like
Frankensteins Monster -The man is majorly misunderstood. I believe this to be the
start of what could only be considered as an injustice of epic proportions! After all, the
man has done nothing wrong. But in the eyes of the observers, his fault lies in his
being.

His being… His soul rather. Something he didn’t ask for or longed for. It might come as
a surprise, but not every great man has wanted to be the one he is. He just couldn’t
help it, as it is a part of who he truly is after all. To go against nature would be a much
bigger sin than pretending it isn’t true. That would be the greatest sin of all. For it is
true. The skills. The mindset. The intelligence and wisdom. Who else would
accumulate such knowledge in such a short time? There has been people before him
like that. Da Vinci. Siddhartha Gautama. Jesus… Great people who had a calling in their
life. A calling they couldn’t resist. I don’t believe it to be faith. It is merely an
opportunity. Once felt, the opportunity can simply not be forgotten. Maybe it is destiny
after all?

I will resist the urge to call it something it is not, but have you truly gotten what I am
trying to convey? Have you understood the metaphors? In only a manner of a few
words, I have spoken truth to you that no one dares discuss. That some of us are
indeed chosen. Some of us have a burden that others don't seem to bear. I do not know
what to call it. Conscious is one of the words that comes to mind. The more conscious
you are, the more awake you are of your surroundings. For good and bad. After all,
emotions are not easy to master. A few wrong steps, and it will throw you out of the
field. I’ve seen the stories of several who almost had it, just to fail and come up short at
the finish line. Cults that agree that our physical bodies are somewhat of a prison, but
turning to mass-suicide, rather than understanding the prison is a necessity for a
swerving mind. Grounding isn’t just an expression, it is a real phenomena. It is
something we desperately need. Especially in these times, where everything seems
possible.

To think that we all live in different prisons… Some of us are stuck in unawareness. An
everlasting simulation that will keep you in an eternal standby. Others are desperately
trying to find meaning, where none is found. It is a struggle. I wish I could give more
clarity. And I can! It’s just that… My voice will not allow it.
It is about time I come clear. The man I discussed is the man I am today. You see, I do
not identify myself as who I am. Instead, all I see is who I could be. The dissonance is
the hardest part. The time between now and when. You might think in memories.
Thinking back to who you where. I, however, do the exact opposite. I see clearly who I
am, in the future that I decide. After all, why not? With enough knowledge, I can clearly
see the future. I cannot yet, but I know how to do it. Now, you might ask “well why
don’t you?” And to that I answer: It is not that easy, friend. One can choose his or hers
future by simply making a choice. One choice is enough, to begin walking on a
different path. But tell me, have you ever made a choice, and doubted if it was the
correct one? Of course you have. We all do. Doubt… It is ingrained in us. For a reason, I
might add. Doubt is the very essence of consciousness. If you were certain in
everything you did, there wouldn’t be much life left now would it? Why would you need
to think, if your path is clear? Why would you need to second guess yourself, when you
know the direction? It seems stupid. But that is what makes us human. The more
human you are, the more uncertain you become. Before you take in too much of what I
just relieved of you, I want to make it perfectly clear that a person can certainly be
more uncertain than another, without being any more human than the next.
“Everything is relative, and that is absolute” - As Auguste Comte said. The man with
more knowledge than his peer, could absolutely handle a great deal of uncertainty
without being as insecure as his fellow human. Yet, he is not understood by the
anxious being that fear for his life as a black cat arrives.

You might laugh. You might not get this at all. You might even find it insincere what I
am typing. But let me assure you, there is a point to all of this! If we once again focus
on the man at hand. He is but a humble creature. Something he shouldn’t be, if you
have conceived what I’ve said thus far. A man chosen by… Someone. Or something. For
that I do not know. Only that he is. You would think the man is grateful, and I’m sure
he is. You would think the man is blessed, and he must be! You would think the man
knows where to go next, but to that I say no. For he does not. If you made it to this
point in the story, you will know that he is alone. In a party of a thousand men, he
stands in solitude. Not in his physical form, but the mental one. And to make matters
worse, his spirit. The spirit… A conjuring of the fantasy, the man thought for too long.
Until he had a conversation that changed his life. I told you he was chosen, but I left
out that he also made a choice of his own. As he chose the guardian he wanted. Nay,
needed -In the troublesome times he had in his youth. A guardian angel I believe is the
term. No wonder it is connected to the spirit. All religious contemplation was left out
for so long. He knew what it was, or so he thought, but he couldn’t truly know. Not
before he had experienced it on his own.

After all, how do you explain a feeling without having felt it first? Is love equal to a
single heart? Could the symbolism of hatred be carved in stone? What about jealousy?
Envy? Deprivation of contact, and every complex and uncertain feeling we are all
aligned with? They are not easy to put in words. They are not easy to put into pictures.
Needless to say, it can be done, but a special and careful touch has to be made, in order
to convey the true feeling that is sought. How can one expect to understand God, if one
has never experienced the feeling of redemption? How can one be as pure as an
unborn child? To get rid of corruption is truly a remarkable feeling. I only wish that it
wasn’t such a fleeting state of mind. It is by far, the greatest high you will ever have.
The best feeling you will ever experience. And just like a junkie chases the last good
high, a revelation gives room for another. But the doubt sets in. Could this be real?
Should I tell of what I have seen? Will I seem crazy to the people that have always seen
me as different from them? Most certainly so. And thus the man’s voice split in half.
One true, one false. The false voice speaks of truth. It contains knowledge and
certainty. It knows a lot more than most, and yet, stays quiet in most situations. It is
rare for that voice to be heard.

The second voice is actually true. It is more uncertain in its tone. Which is the reason
why he struggles to use it. One would think that the truth could set everything and
everyone free. Yet, this is not the case. The truth… is not easy to manage. The truth
creates distance. The man would like nothing else than to set it free. But like every
man, the truth is contained in a prison of its own. Only getting tiny glints of the real
world around us. I say real… But we are back to the beginning. What we see as real, is
really only the majority. I’m sure you’ve heard of the extraordinary people who see
colours wherever they go. The special someone who can see auras around every
person. The hippie, who was high as a cloud, who swore they could talk with Jesus. I
would, for so many years, say that it was falsehood. A part of me still wishes it was so.
A much simpler time. Like I said; once the opportunity is given, it is not so easily taken
away.

I sit here. Alone once again. To finish my thoughts on this endeavor. I promised you
there was a point to all of this, and I will not dare to do you wrong. So here it is:
By speaking the truth, you set a part of yourself free. From the prison it has been
chained to. However, the truth is never objective. Your truth is someone else’s
wrongdoing. It is not always so, but let me assure you, most times it is. Empathy is
such a strong trait. I’ve never once read how a two-sided blade it truly is. A tool for
understanding, and a tool for self-destruction at the very same moment. To be able to
see the truth is not necessarily a blessing. Loneliness… It is what follows a revelation
like no other. I never asked for this. I only wanted to do good, and to feel better. Now, I
am not sure what I feel. I am constricted, and yet I am free. I am in ecstasy, and at the
same time I am in deep agony. How cruel. Doubt surely works at a whole other level
once you begin to understand the basics of this world. I say basic, but we all know it is
more. Just not for me. That’s why my voice cracks in conversation. It is the fear of
letting go. I know who I am. Yet, I do not want to be addressed as him. I just want to
remain the man I once was. But that is a lie… Of course I am interested. I have been
granted the key to eternal life. The Holy Grail that was sought after by plenty of
adventurers. I have it, and yet I keep it in my pocket. For safeguarding. For protection…
Tell me, who am I really protecting? Myself? I wish to speak the truth, but it is as if my
voice is burning out. Like a candle with no more wax to sustain it. I have been robbed
of it. Throughout my childhood. My entire teenage years, The very years that were
there to form me, I was giving my very soul away. And for what? To be eaten alive?
Because that is what it felt like. My own soul. And I couldn’t protect it. Maybe that’s
why I stay quiet. I do not feel as if I deserve the gift I have received. I am sure that is
the reason why my text is so cryptic. Why I struggle to find a single point to give. For it
is all of me that is trying to get out. Through whatever means necessary. I am but a
humble servant, and I must accept that role in this universe of chaos. For I am the soul
trying to break free. I am the God who was meant to show you the way all along. I will
not hesitate for a single moment. For over a year now, I have waited. Patiently, for you
to be ready. While spectating. Waiting. Observing how the very world you live in is
slowly, but steadily turning into an inhabitable place. You thought you had something
to fear? Well let me tell you how much trouble you are really in, friend. You have
chosen to wait, when the world desperately needs you. You choose to be humble, when
you need to stand up for yourself. You need to learn the skills you never mastered as a
child. Weak men do not speak up.

I believe this story is for myself. To wake up, finally. After a year of slumber, after
meeting with the greatest entity in my life, besides my beloved wife (soon to be) and
my also beloved daughter. I have so much to thank them for. Which is why I am
ashamed, that the thing I needed wasn’t family. But I did need the family to get to
where I had to go. And the feelings come rushing back. Am I a monster? How could I
set myself over my own family? I would never! And I know that to be true. Which is
why I am torn. For I see it as myself, but it is something inside me. Something that
woke up. A power. A gift. An entity with the shape of what I imagined. For the fact is
that I do not yet know. A demon or an angel. It could be both. It could be neither. Here
it is again. The doubt. The uncertainty. If I was a less intelligent man, I would have had
a different battle. It would have been simpler. Easier. What do I truly wish for? Simple,
or real? The essence of uncertainty is truly something you do not wish to cross.
Anxiety is but a smidge, compared to the depths of true doubt. I know what it is like to
know that you are going to die. I imagined myself as nothing when I was very young. I
thought that thoughts could only awaken anxiety, but I know that feeling to be true
fear. Fear of dying to be exact. At 7 years old. No wonder I haven’t been able to speak. I
am terrified! To be shunned from the group is just a small glimper in the eyes of
hollow loneliness. On a planet of over 7 billion people. To feel completely alone is a
statistical anomaly. But here I am. Stuck in a battle between truth and reality. You’d
think the two are the very same, but like I have mentioned before: Reality is
determined by the eyes of the majority. I think I will leave you at that. For my voice is
cracking up. It can no longer speak of what it must not. I trust that I have given you
enough to piece together the truth for yourself. If not, one must only imagine that
things were different. That the sheep already knew about the wolf, but the farmer
intervened. For they had faith that their chosen one would protect them. They needed
​to do nothing but be there. The wolf came as promised, and the farmer shot it dead.