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You Don't Know What You Look like through Other People's Eyes

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Some might tell you I'm crazy. Some might say I'm insane. I say I'm normal. Because I am. I am normal. But I'm also crazy, insane. And why can't I be all three? Why can't crazy be the norm? It already is. The most brilliant minds were also the most unstable. The more you know, the more you learn, the less you want to know.

Please restrict yourselves from reading these unless it is between 3 and 4 in the morning. Do not read these if you have had an itch under your skin, behind your eye, on the back of your brain, etc. within the past hour. The more you follow those, the longer I can bring you more information. These are signs that you are being Windowed. If you come across a story with a title from the lyrics of Pepper by Butthole Surfers or one that opens up with "Some might tell you I'm crazy. Some might say I'm insane. I say I'm normal." followed by a line, see the previous instructions. If you come across a story that opens up with "The following is a glimpse at the end of the universe. Any and all attempts to stop what follows will falter." followed by a line, see the above instructions. The reason for such odd openings is so that you can easily recognize my work without giving away to others that it is my work. This is for my continued safety and your continued entertainment.

This is a story of when I last did the Window Ritual. For those whom are unaware of it, the Window Ritual is a ritual that allows you to see through someone else's eyes. If you want an explanation on how to do the Window Ritual, of which is only known by the spirits and those of the True Mind, I won't tell you. I'll leave the mystery a mystery.

There I was, in another's mind. Their eyes were mine, and I saw what I was never meant to see. It is theorized by many scientists that our isolation to our own mind means that one person's view is completely different from another person's, often demonstrated by what the color red would look like from person to person. But it goes much deeper than that. We all see different planes of existence. The plane I see is the plane most see, or as those of the True Mind refer to it, Kahsis (kah-sis). Kahsis is the plane that most of us see because of evolution. Those that saw this plane stayed alive longer, as it is the most useful of the planes, in a practical and social sense. But this is not entirely true, as there are planes much more useful than this one, but those who saw into those planes "ascended," as you'd say.

Kahsis is just one though, and there exists at least one person who observes each of the others on this earth. Most of though of whom you'd call insane observe either the Gamma plane (Called so because it was the third discovered other than our own. It was discovered by a Greek woman in ancient Greece. Also known as Lokjis (Lock-jis)) or Mohjis (Moe-jis). The one I saw was a very rare plane, seen by maybe two people who weren't native to it, including myself. The other was starter of the True Mind, who could see all planes in equal measure, native to none. This plane was named by him in his only recently found manuscript of the planes, Stahjis (Stah-jis).

But enough lore. Lore is boring, and pounding you with the True Mind's lore is probably bad for my health anyways. I found myself in another's mind. Their eyes were mine, or did I already say that. Stahjis is best described as the "uncanny valley" plane. Think Kahsis, but everything a bit off, just enough to be unsettled. Viewing the entire world through the eyes of these would, of course, drive even the strongest minds to insanity. The eyes of the man through which I saw the plane were obviously in a mental ward. The walls were padded, but it was just so barely off. It's hard to describe just how it was wrong, but to my best abilities, it was like having white curtains, seeing them everyday all your life, then one day, you find them green instead, and you can't think of any good reason why. But at a constant surprise and mistrust.

Now, revisiting the last paragraph (and indeed this story, I needed rest) after a day or two, I realize that just typing an ominous sentence about it is just not the same as seeing it yourself nor the least bit creepy. But nothing can even come close to actually experiencing it, to actually seeing it. The whole room gave me an uneasy feeling, from the ceiling, to the walls, to the floor, to the door, to the occupants occasional legs. Everything was like being wrapped in a warm blanket, only to realize later it was human skin and hastily fling it off of you and hate yourself for enjoying its warmth. Every time you look at it you get a sick, revolting feeling, how easily your trust was misplaced.

The man I looked through fidgeted, and looked around frantically, as if looking for familiarity. He found himself particularly unsettling, as the few views of his legs - he was in a straight jacket, of course - he looked away immediately. To me, his legs were only as unsettling as the rest of the room, but if you found yourself unsettling, it'd make you more unsettled than the other things that give you the creeps.

After several hours, the ritual lasting for a radiant amount of time, but for me 24 hours, the man quickly looked to the door. Because the ritual only allows sight, I could not here the noise that brought about this action, but apparently the warden had brought a meal. The man stumbled over to the tray from his corner and began devouring it, shivering from having to move toward such sights. The meal itself was a very foreboding looking supper, consisting of what looked like chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans. The food was distorted. The chicken was clearly a chicken leg and breast, yet somehow, I still couldn't be sure about what part of a chicken it could have possible come from. The potato mound seemed quite regular, yet still found someway to be skewed unnaturally, and going off at odd angles. The green beans were... somehow normal, completely undistorted and not unsettling, which then gave an unsettling thought of "Why?"

The following hours, the meal being relatively uneventful beyond the initial visuals, were just as uneventful. All that happened was that the man shambled back over to his corner and sat there. Only then did I realize that I hadn't seen him blink at all. The thought only dawned on me when I noticed he would be sleeping soon. The problem with 24 hour... "Windowing" let's call it, is the sleep. Your mind does not get rest during this, nor your stomach get food or your thirst get water. Though it is not the longest the ritual can go for, it certainty isn't the shortest. See the inside of someone else's eyelids can be a very boring event, but surprisingly the man sat straight up, continuing to twitch and look around. For the next 13 hours (from a 6 PM dinner to a 7 AM breakfast is what I'm going with) nothing happened and the sight still remained unsettling. Like those curtains from early suddenly turning blue a few weeks later, but, again, constantly.

Again, a tray entered the room, but this time the man was looking at the door when it happened. As I expected, a small flap opened and a tray slid in. Before the flap closed I made out the waist of a person and could feel the uneasy make me piss myself. If every other person looked like this, I'd be insane, too! If just the waist of another person made me piss myself, I'd probably shit bricks at the sight of a whole body. My mind was too paralyzed by fear to really see it clearly enough to describe it, but I don't think I could!

The man sat there for a while, suddenly not moving. The best I could guess was that he was just as paralyzed as I was, until eventually he got up and moved over to the tray. It was then my trance was broken. I had a fellow member there to bring me out of it prematurely if something happened, and he took me pissing my pants as a sign to get me the hell out. I'm supposed to record what plane I saw in a tome of planes and found it to be unmarked, meaning no one else as seen it and recorded it. If I wanted to, I could home in on the man I saw through, but I don't honestly want to go back to that plane. The "guy goes into scary house, guy get's murdered" trope pops in my head when I think about going back.

My fellow members are currently taking a vote on whether they should send me back in for investigation on the man's whereabouts, so we can take him to gain much needed knowledge of this plane, but I don't want to. When dealing with -jis planes, they take a vote on whether to send them back or not if they don't volunteer, and the proceedings usually takes a few days. They review what I report seeing, and decide whether or not it's worth risking my insanity and the loss of a member for information. They will probably vote yes, which is why I'm typing now. I read getting your traumatizing events out helps with coping, and a fresh mind is what I'll need if I'm going back in. The release of the verdict comes soon, God help me.

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