Mad Ego

This inner narrator trails our every move and moulds the details of events onto a ready-made storyboard that is conjured up out of thin air. A man’s life becomes endlessly symbolic, continuously meaningful, but in a sentimental way that is distortion disguised as clarity. Positivity uncurbed by rationality becomes a hypnotic snare that twists the logic a man conceives from one moment to the next. It unwittingly corrupts his perceptions of reality into a fabricated dream of a life he’s in fact not even living. This is the monologue of a mad ego, scripted to keep on yapping in the background of his mind regardless of the facts and circumstances. The good, the bad, and the ugly are all justified into paintings that find their place on an illusionary wall. Happiness swings to sadness, sadness to happiness, with intermittent stalls in utter indifference — yet not of their own accord, but by the fanciful narrative that insists it place a man’s significance at the center of the universe. It is absurdity and insanity against the backdrop of a lunatic asylum. But when such a bizarre condition is shared by all, it is simply considered the normal way of life.

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