I try to remember that I must forget myself, that I, the ego, am only a thought, a perceived object floating in a conscience. That I was but am no more. So, it is true that I have no soul, after all… That everything is perceived in conscience, and I am an object in the conscientious space. My dreams of grandeur, my pains, follies, joys… were not mine. To be stripped of one’s emotions, memories, beliefs. They are still all there. But they no longer belong to me. I was not their creator; they just
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