With business as usual, my habits continue to convince me that the story playing upstairs is where only good things grow. It’s called the Desire Complex because my thoughts go into projection overdrive, and I reap the rewards of psychological stimuli before ever setting foot on the big stage. Of course, I need some sort of stimulation to get things moving or else I won’t put one foot in front of the next, or get out of bed.
But when I stay lounging around and indulge in Unrealism for long periods, by continually refining and over-practising my theatrical role for a greater applause coming from only myself as both the ‘actor’ and ‘audience’, then life gets complicated. And, if you’ve already read and understood the section on Highly Processed Projections, you’ll know my reality distorts when attention gets hijacked by impulsive taste buds that basically own me.