Every mind is a whole universe. A perfectly enclosed sphere of everything that is, has been and ever will be. At least, I think it is. And if I thought it then it must be a part of the only universe I really know: the one inside my head.

I observe the outside through the lenses of my eyes. The same eyes that help my brain distort everything according to the natural laws of my internal universe. The theory of Preconceived Notions works in concert with The Law of Selective Perception to govern the behavior of the galaxies, planets and atoms of my very own cosmos of rumination.

It gets lonely being the container and director of a macrocosm. The shell surrounding my universe is impenetrable. There might be other universes outside of mine, but they’re all beyond reach. I can just barely detect them at the frayed edge of my everything. Countless dots of sentient light.

A multiverse of loneliness.

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