Impact and being perceived

Isn't it fucked up that your actions have consequences?

I didn't ask to be here. I didn't want to be capable of changing anything. I'm not talking here of your typical "moving pebble, flapping butterfly" rubbish, it doesn't even require effort to ignore things beneath the noise floor of humdrum happenings. Every thing you say is rolling a freshly weighted die to see if it's remembered or affects anything. You don't get to choose how, nor what that means. All the things you throw away are gone forever, bar a memory that can only become lesser over time. All the things you gain are a parasitic anchor to the past until you can bring yourself to throw it away. A past that doesn't even remain still, constantly squirming under inspection. The only "real" past, present, and future are whatever you think of right now for however long you don't think of anything else.

You have so much less control than you think. You can change as much as you like in your head, convincing others of anything is like steering a cruise ship with a blindfold and no sense of time. Thoughts and actions are entirely dictated through a virtual momentum. Your lived-in reality is not the consensus. You hardly even understand the literal only thing you experience. Thinking about thinking about thinking about thinking about thinking....

There are precious few moments where you're above it all. Where you get to float around, above the burden of change. You pass through like a ghost, just an observer. This, in its own way, is terrifying. To be plucked so suddenly from responsibility is jarring, you don't even really notice what feels so weird at first. Brief returns to agency feel impure and disgusting, as unused as you have become to smearing yourself on your surroundings. Then you're back before you know it. How despicably cruel to have it all forced back upon you. I think babies cry after being born because they feel this way. I feel disappointed I couldn't bring myself to.