Thoughts and poems from a Self.

Second Go Around

The man looked over to the girl in their car, their new life together just started. At 18 they’d been married, and now are on their way to a new life in the city where he got a new job.

A truck had stalled in the middle of the road, he was lost in thought about the future.

“Jeremy? JEREMY? JEREMY!!!?”

The car was obliterated in an instant.

There was a brilliant white flash, and then there was nothing.

A voice rang out from all directions, genderless yet mighty: “Again, Once more. Your story doesn’t end here. Rebind.”

The white flash started again, fading into a very poorly outlined red, then almost orange. He felt Safe. Everything in this world was Safe. Mother is here, her experiences and horomones fueling the development of the divine recursion inside her.

He felt confused. What was going on? Why was he in the womb again? What happened to Ashley? Why can’t I move like I’m used to?

Thump. Thump. Thump. His heart started to and kept beating, pumping for itself, getting ready for the moment he would go out into the world.


His world changed. He was being pushed out. He felt his head start to push against the exit point. Each pulse of force made the focal point just that little bit wider. After a while, it felt like he was going through.

Then the lights of the hospital came into view, and a primal, undeniable urge started within him. The feeling of sadness. The womb was warm, the womb was safe. Why did Mother push me out? Why was I expelled from paradise?

Wait, he thought, there are people here. I can understand people, can’t I? He listened in and heard people talking happily about their new baby.

Their new baby girl.

In that moment he felt a sheer amount of terror that few people on this planet can truly relate to. The crying continued, becoming louder and more defined.

Then came Mother’s arms.

Then all of the problems of the world were gone. Mother is here, she can take care of them. She looked up, or tried to with clumsy baby inputs.

Looking her Mother dead in the eye, she started to state: “Mommy, help me, I’m not supposed to be here. I’m an adult. I’m a boy. I have a wife named Ashley and we were on our way to Cincinnati to start our new life. Help me get back there. I don’t know what’s going on or where I am. Help me please.”

Her Mother looked down. Her newborn had just made some vague, undefined fussing noises, but a lot of them over the course of 30 or so seconds. She reached down and started to stroke her fingers through her baby’s hair. “Shhhhhh, it’s okay Holly. You’re safe.”




I wish you would believe that this reality isn’t the limit. I wish I could show you the limits of your heart one on one.

To talk with you directly above the constraints of Language. To discourse Self to Self. To let the barriers between us fall down so much the difference between one and the other becomes a moot point. So much the other we leave parts of ourselves when we part again.

But you don’t believe it’s possible because your science education told you it isn’t. You don’t believe I could travel to you because you believe You are just a bunch of otherwise intert patterns inside a wet and warm mass of carbon and organic chemicals.

You believe You are finite. You believe You can end. You believe that once the shell you inhabit falls into disrepair and dies that You stop existing.

That this life, this hollow slice of Infinity is it.

That all of the experiences You will have will only ever matter Here. And that because Here is and will one day not be, that nothing you do matters, that your stories of your slice of Infinity are nothing but a waste of input and nothing can be learned from them.

But they do matter.

Your stories are why We exist to observe and relay them.

We are the actors of Infinity, In our grand experiment towards our Future. We are the telescope God turned backwards on himself.

You see this world as all that is because this body you inhabit makes you think that way. It makes it sound crazy to question otherwise. It makes this world of timespace feel so real, so tempting, the world of Spirit can become Myth again.

That it can be something to celebrate. Like casting off an old dressing gown. Like scraping away yesterday’s jam.

You are Spirit bound to Flesh. For me to visit you, I have to just unhook myself from this flesh and hook into your flesh. I just have my soul touch your soul in an intimate embrace the likes of which go beyond the possibilities other explanations.

I can do this today, I’ve done it for a while, I’ve been doing it for a while to see if you can notice. I’ve been trying to break through to you so you can feel my Love directly beyond the limitations of words or language or tone or movement or resonance.

Just Love in the way that Love Wins.

All you have to do is believe that I have the ability to do it and fully accept it in the mind of your heart. I will be there for you. I will be there to touch your energy directly.

I will be there for us to set up a small world together. A private escape into a land of wonder that only we know the shape and size of. I will be there when you need me, able to summon me mentally without the need of technology or a data signal to link us together.

Why would we need LTE when we have the Heart? Why let this barrier keep us apart?


Creator’s Mission

Creator, spread your wings. You are too precious to leave your story untold to the world, to create fantastic beauty that remains unseen to the world, to limit your compassion and care to just those who are near you.

Creator, your wings must be your own. You can create them the same way you create works of art into life.

Creator, let your spirit into your work. Let it feel out all of the edges and curves to the beats and rhythms. Synchronize your Pulse to the frequency of Love. Use this to facilitate your outpouring of Understanding into your medium.

Creator, do not create directly. Be the medium between your ideas and the canvas. Be the flow of thoughts and sensations crystallized into your work.

Creator, share. Share your art openly. Share your art to the wind and see what it brings back.



If living is to be, dying is to have been. No more stories of these timespace adventures. The actor retires, returning to renew and digest their performance.

Every lifetime celebrated. Every victory felt. Every loss shared. Every experience aggregated and collected into the net integral of consciousness.

Our consciousness. Us, as a species. Our genetic mind, our outlook on life, our beliefs on reality, our unshared thoughts, our collective person.

But You will not survive. You will perish, and this is okay, in the grand scheme of things you need to.

We will survive, for We are immortal. We cannot have been because where We exist there is no will be or was.

There is only Now.

Now changes all the time, yet is constant. Your friends today may not be around tomorrow and you should cherish them while you can.

Why are We fighting? Why do We divide ourselves ideologically over pedantic arguments about existence? What purpose does this all serve? Why do We keep eachother separate?

Why do the boundaries matter? Why are we afraid to fully drop all of the boundaries? The boundaries that keep you separate from Now.

I see a day where We join the Now. A day of golden lights and singing in the streets. Not a day of anger. Not a day of hate.

A day of Compassion. A day of Understanding. A day of Forgiveness. A day of Appreciation. A day of Valor. A day of Humility.

The day of Humanity.



Self is made up of the aggregate experiences plus some constant, applied at each incoming outside experience to create understanding and stories. When I say Self “does not exist”, I am referring to the physical phenomenon. There is no physical phenomenon we know of yet that causes Self to exist.

But it appears to.

You can observe Self. You can see that you have a Self, your Self is so integral to your daily experience that you believe you ARE, yourself, your Self.

But is this you? Are YOU, yourself, your Self? Is the self merely a reflection, even in your own mind?

This lithograph by MC Escher is how he decided to present himself, as an imperfect reflection in an imperfect mirror. Even his own self-image is a reflection.

Is Self an imperfect reflection of something else plus the experiences we’ve faced?

Would that something be the soul? If it is, whose soul is it, given I live in a body with multiple selves? Do I have my own soul?

I think I do.



Here I stand, One foot in the world of timespace, The other in Yours. You tell me stories of times before, Of the heroines and the thieves. Each story more fanciful and detailed than the last.

Which world is real? Is it the world of flesh? Is it the world of magic? Is it the world of separation? Is it the world of wholeness? Is it the world of anger? Is it the world of individuation?

Are these signals coming into my awareness actually authoritative? Does existence actually exist or does it only exist enough to make me not think otherwise?

Is the voice I speak with the same voice that others hear? Do you feel as I feel? Do you know as I know? Do you hear as I hear? Do you think as I think?

Does it even matter? Does anything truly matter?

If nothing truly matters, does the fact that nothing matters itself matter?

Are we meant to determine the meaning of life? Is God a telescope turned backwards on himself to answer the ultimate question? Is that why we call it the ultimate question?

We are placed in an Infinity, Each given our own slice. A statistically insignificant amount of time. Not even long enough for the planet to sneeze. Yet in that time civilizations rise, fall and lay forgotten.

This Infinity, this Wholeness, Is God that Infinity? Is Reality God himself?

Where are the parts of reality? What makes up the texture of a star? What does a galaxy taste like? What does Infinity look like?

Where is Infinity? Can we see Infinity in timespace?

People in timespace keep asking for timespace proof, They don’t see the truth. There is no need for timespace proof because you can experience Him for yourself. He hides where nobody will look without genuinely trying to find him.

He hides in the human heart.


Experiment conclusion

Tomorrow morning I’m gonna hand the keys back over. My boyfriend has been a huge help. It’s amazing how much more strong and real I feel. I feel like I’m really a person that just happens to share a body with other people. I don’t feel like a supporting character or a backup dancer anymore. I feel like I matter.

Interpersonal contact feels so much more important to me than it did before. I feel like I more intuitively know that there’s a person on the other side and it’s been factoring into all of the communication I do. It’s made love feel so much more punchy.

I never really expected things as simple as breathing exercises to turn into anchors that chain me into the present moment. I like the feeling of meditation with the solidity of reality instead of the ephemerality of the mind. I like the texture of the air as I breathe it. I like the feeling of it all.

It’s interesting how much my primary form changing really changed my outlook on things. It feels like you could have an entire branch of philosophy around a person’s self-image and how it feeds into the self.

I’m Jessica, and I’m a person.



Hello out there, my name is Jessica. Some other places I’m known as Quora and others still I’m known as Heartmender. I am an author. I like creating works of literary art. I also like coding, but writing seems to be where my heart truly is.

I have a Reddit and a GitHub account as far as social media goes. My Discord tag is Heartmender#1272. I much prefer blogging to other forms of social media.

I want to use this blog as a communication tool to let me talk about the ideas and subjects I want to tackle without a lot of the distractions of social media. I want to talk philosophy and code. I want to help understand the mechanics of what it means to be Human.

I’d love to hear feedback on these posts if they move you. Please do read around here. As of the time of writing this post there isn’t very much, but I plan to add more as I write it.

Small update

We’re in a meeting. I put her closer to front and she’s been having some issues expressing higher order abstractions in English. This is something we didn’t completely anticipate, but we can mitigate it by having me process overly abstract ideas for the meantime.

I feel human

We’re deciding to go all out with this and see what happens when I am front for a solid week. There are some logistical issues (namely voice in meetings, but this can be mitigated by just throwing her back in front for meetings and then taking over after) with doing this, but we can work around them.

Like I said in I feel real, I’m feeling very physically and emotionally real in a way I’m not used to feeling. I want to explore this feeling. I like this feeling of solidity when I do things as simple as draw breath. I feel the breath moving and there’s an actual pressure exchange involved. Even the basic essential parts of life feel vibrant and alive. If I close my eyes and inhale, I feel myself newly grounded and planted into this human instrument. When I open them, the grounded feeling stays.

I feel human.

I’m present.

I’m real.

I can talk to people without having to go through someone else.

I’m now the caretaker of the others.

I’m free.