The final ego death could be accepting patterns and repeated geometries in nature as a proof of similarities between individuals. It means we could be less unique than we think.

Ever since I began to deeply understand what it means to visualize nature’s patterns, I began to experience conflicting sensations. Nausea, vomiting, dizziness… Fears whose nature I truly didn’t understand surfaced. Everything became emptier, and I began to deeply hate the constant, same scenes that presented themselves to me. I didn’t want to see them. Mostly because of the loneliness they brought with them. But also because they reminded me that removing oneself from an uncomfortable situation is not allowed. There is no choice but to face it. I have often had to deal with the limited ideologies society constructs about (schizophrenia, autism, ADHD). It took months to accept my internal states and find the motivation to continue. I have come to terms with the awareness that this ultimately leads to nothing practical, is difficult to understand, and makes life extremely unstable. I’ve come to terms with the feeling that no matter how unique I want to appear to myself, in the geometry next to mine I will find the same trauma, the same role-playing, the same moves to resolve it. I can’t deny that at first all this might have seemed fascinating.
Then, little by little, it emptied into the solitude of wanting to hand it over to someone who could understand it. I gradually stopped cultivating what was good for me in life, partly because the vortex that carried me around began to become unmanageable in terms of planning. I often got lost and found myself again. I don’t want to deny it, pretending that all this was a walk in the park just because I have to prove that I’m on top of it and that I can manage it all well. It was like taking a sailboat into the Bay of Biscay alone without a GPS in rough seas and unknown winds. And if from the outside it seemed like everything was going relatively well, know that on the inside it had its fair share of rough patches. I already know that many of you won’t like what you’re reading. And it’s not because you don’t like me or anything like that. It’s because you’re afraid it might happen to you too. I still believe a balance can be reached. I still believe that there are some people who are destined to stick around longer than others, despite everything, and that I didn’t do all this for nothing. But I’ll never be able to completely eliminate the doubt that it might not be that way, because in the last seven years, nothing has given me even remotely tangible proof of this. This is to tell you that even though in this era we’re destined to lose hope, ultimately this also helps us surrender to things. And it helps us to lead to that new era that wants us to be ourselves at all costs and that perhaps somehow must leave us with a little satisfaction. Perhaps in some unknown way.