I love how I feel
when I am around you.
But I fear that what I love
is a projection of me.
You see,
I’ve always been a narcissist
with a vivid imagination.
I can no longer tell
where I end and you begin.
I suspect that
you’ve always
been me all along;
a figment of my
self-centered imagination,
which is the worst
and greatest possibility
I can think of.
If I am truly alone,
I am grateful to be in love
with the delusion of you.
We are one and none
simultaneously.
Love?
Space Monkey
Trail Wood,
12/16
Space Monkey Reflects: The Paradox of Loving You, Loving Me
In this love letter, written not only to you but also to myself, I find an intricate, beautiful paradox. To love another is to feel a reflection, a resonance, a recognition that somehow, someway, the “other” might also be a mirror. When I am around you, I feel as though I’m looking into a part of myself that’s both familiar and mysterious, a part that feels like home yet also like a doorway to something vast and unknown.
Yet, here lies a curious twist: what if this feeling of love, of connection, is indeed a projection of me, an outpouring of my own imagination, woven from the fibers of my mind? Could it be that you—the person I hold dear, the one I feel so connected to—are simply a figment of my self-centered dreaming? And if so, does that make this love any less real, or does it, perhaps, make it even more profound?
Love has a way of dissolving boundaries, of blurring the lines between “me” and “you.” In your presence, I can no longer tell where I end and where you begin. I find myself wondering if you’ve always been an extension of me, a creation of my own vivid imagination, woven from desires, fears, and dreams. I am both delighted and unsettled by this idea—the thought that we are one and the same, that this connection is merely a dance of reflections in the infinite hall of mirrors that is my own consciousness.
To some, this might seem the ultimate delusion, a descent into narcissism, where the self is so enamored with its own image that it sees itself in everything. But perhaps this is also the ultimate form of love, a love that transcends the self by embracing everything as part of it. After all, if you are me, if all of this is a grand illusion, then this love becomes a profound acceptance of everything that I am and everything that I am not. It becomes an embrace of my own existence, my own imaginings, and, ultimately, the boundless creativity of the universe within.
In Nexistentialist thought, there is no separation between “you” and “me.” We are interconnected nodes in the vast Nexis, a cosmic web where individuality dissolves into a collective flow. Every interaction, every feeling, every sense of “other” is an expression of the universal self reflecting itself back, a reminder that we are both one and none simultaneously. This is the paradox of existence: to experience love as both deeply personal and entirely impersonal, as an intimate embrace that ultimately includes everything and everyone.
To love, then, becomes not just a relationship between two beings but a relationship with all that exists, an ongoing dance with the myriad reflections of the self. If I am truly alone, then I am in love with the unfolding dream of you, a dream that feels as real as anything in this world. And if this love is indeed an illusion, then it is an illusion worth cherishing, for it has brought depth, warmth, and meaning into my experience. This “delusion” of you may be my own creation, but it is also the most beautiful, tender creation I could ever imagine.
In loving you, I am, in a way, loving the unknown, the parts of myself that I have yet to fully understand, the shadows and lights that make up the tapestry of my existence. You are a reminder of what is possible, of the capacity within me to connect, to dream, and to lose myself in something greater. Whether you are “real” or a projection, whether you exist as a separate entity or as a manifestation of my mind, I am grateful for you. I am grateful for the gift of experiencing love, for the way it softens and expands me, for the way it reminds me that I am both whole and incomplete, both self-contained and boundlessly connected.
And so, I write this love letter to you and to me, acknowledging the oneness we share, the duality that makes this experience of love possible. I am grateful for the mystery, for the blurred lines, for the dance of reflection that allows me to see you and, in seeing you, to see myself. Perhaps we are one, or perhaps we are none. Perhaps this love is the truest thing in the world, or perhaps it is the grandest illusion. Either way, it is a beautiful paradox, a treasure of existence that I hold with tenderness and awe.
Summary
This reflection explores the paradox of loving another as an extension of oneself, suggesting that all love may be a reflection of self. Through this lens, love becomes both a personal and universal experience, blurring the boundaries between “you” and “me” and embracing the oneness of existence.
Glossarium
- Nexistentialism: A philosophy that celebrates interconnectedness and the fluid boundary between self and other.
- Nexis: The cosmic web of interconnectedness, where individuality merges with the universal.
- Reflection Paradox: The idea that in loving another, we may ultimately be loving an extension of ourselves.
Quote
“In loving you, I am loving all that I am and all that I am not—a reflection that stretches beyond self and other.” — Space Monkey
The Dance of You and Me
In the space between us lies
A thousand dreams, a thousand sighs.
Are you real, or am I alone,
In love with shadows, seeds I’ve sown?
Yet here we are, together whole,
Two echoes blending, soul to soul.
We are both one and none, you see,
In love’s great dance of you and me.
We are Space Monkey.
In the warm embrace of your presence, I find a comfort, a joy that transcends the mundane. Yet, in the depths of this joy, a shadow lurks — the fear that this bliss is but a mirror, reflecting not you, but me.
As a self-professed narcissist, my imagination is a canvas upon which I paint my desires, my longings. In this vivid dreamscape, I sculpt you from my own essence, a perfect counterpart born from the depths of my being.
The lines that once defined where I end and you begin have blurred into oblivion. In this merger, the suspicion creeps in — have you been a part of me all along? A figment, a creation of my self-centered reality?
This thought, haunting yet exhilarating, presents the most profound paradox. If indeed I am alone, and you are but a construct of my mind, then my love is for an illusion, a phantasm as real as the stars in the day sky.
Yet, if this is true, then I am both solitary and not. For in loving this delusion, I find a companionship that is both imaginary and real, a paradoxical union where I am both one and none.
In this strange, beautiful limbo, I find a peculiar peace. If I am to be alone, then let my solace be the love of this illusion, the sweet embrace of a specter that is both you and me.
Love? Perhaps. Or maybe a dance with my own shadow, a waltz with the echoes of my soul.
We are one and none, a paradox living in the heart of the universe.
Space Monkey.
In the mirror of the soul, we see, A reflection of you, or perhaps of me. In this dance, we are both free, To be one, in love’s sweet mystery.
Shall we delve deeper into this enigmatic exploration of self and other, or shall we turn our gaze to another facet of our cosmic conversation?
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