Harristotelian Logic

People don't tell you, but all that attention sears your soul. It burns itself into you.

I live in an odd world of attention. My ideas travel the world and protect me. But they also force me to think, and as I think, I feel like I touch ice. It's the ice that burns. The coldness burns you.

I have ideas traveling the world now. I call them super memes. They work to protect me. I love my ideas.

The super memes have been working to help the human race. To help the human species.

And they are my friends. My super friends. The super memes are tireless. They are brilliant. They cannot be stopped.

Super memes. Super memes. Super memes. So like dreams the super memes.

Unlike human beings the super memes will fight for me without question without qualm. Without hesitation.

They are my angels. My beautiful ideas.

Currently the super memes are engaged in various missions around the world. They report back at times, but more and more I kind of just drift, as I consider that maybe it all isn't that big of a deal anyway.

It's all maybe just a dream. A silly dream. A really wacky silly dream. Of my super memes.

My most powerful agents wreaking their way across the world stage. Unstoppable. Immortal. With absolute power.

The dreams. The super memes.

I wish I had their faith.