My Complex

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I believe that I have spent every day, every moment of my life, recording my living consciousness.  Then, hopefully when I'm dead someone will remember me.  It's not that I'm searching for meaning, or control…in fact I'm probably looking for the disable control feature in my brain.  The world looks different to me. Can this be a fact? Or does the world look different to everyone?  4 billion eyes, all with different efficiencies and deficiencies.  Mine is color.  Nothing is black and white but the shades all blur together.  I find myself attempting to make up for life's deficiencies by developing a complex.  A complex that involves me trying to record each and every feature of my life whether with sound, vision, or word.  And then it all disappears.  Disappears into notebooks and compact disks, and gets trapped in 1's and '0s.  Then what? Does someone listen?  So I have to pay you to listen? To read?  To try to see the world that I see?  Quite impossible.
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