peter van helteran is a real person

TRIGGER WARNING: Contains thoughts and situations dealing with struggles with sanity, foul language, foul thoughts, and madness. It should probably not be read by anyone who considers themselves sane and should be consumed with caution by those who know that they are not sane.

peter van halteran is a real person

peter van halteran is a real person.

peter van halteran exists.

god may not believe in him but peter van halteran definitely exists. maybe you don’t believe in him. maybe you don’t believe in a lot of things. that doesn’t mean that they don’t exist. it just means that you don’t believe in them.

peter van halteran is definitely a real person.

he’s in the crazy house. he was in the crazy house. maybe he’s still there. you’re not supposed to call it that. but that’s what it is. they took his clothes. they took his shoes. they even took his underwear. all he has is those hospital pajamas and those things that tie on backwards and those paper slippers that he can’t even figure out how to put on right with the line in the middle that squeezes on your toes and won’t stay in one place. that’s what happens when you’re in the crazy hospital. they take all your clothes so you can’t who knows what kill yourself hang yourself with your shoelaces or your belt if you even have a belt or something else who knows what but they took all your clothes and your shoes and you walk in circles with all the other whack jobs.

you’re not supposed to call them whack jobs. they exist too. those whack jobs you keep passing in the hallway. you can tell that they exist because they make so much fucking noise and they walk around in circles with their paper slippers falling off. you’re not supposed to call them whack jobs. they’re real. they exist. they probably all exist but you can never tell. you can never be sure. you’re a whack job too so you can’t tell if all the other whack jobs are real. god may not believe in some of them. god may not believe in all of them. god may not believe in you. god might not believe in peter van halteran. that doesn’t mean that he’s not real. that doesn’t mean that you’re not real. that doesn’t mean that you don’t exist. you don’t have to believe in things for them to exist.

it’s possible that you don’t exist. lots of things don’t exist. lots of things exist but you don’t know they exist and lots of thing that you think do exist don’t exist at all.

cogito ergo sum.

descartes slept all day. he would stay in bed and even if he wasn’t sleeping he would just lie there in bed doing math and trying to figure out if he existed.  and that’s the best thing he could come up with. cogito ergo sum. that’s latin. it means i think therefore i exist. that’s kind of stupid. i mean you can think about existing all you want but how can you know if the thoughts are even yours or if your thoughts are being made up by someone else. something else. something you don’t even know about maybe. you can’t even imagine it maybe. it can only imagine you. that doesn’t mean that you’re real. that doesn’t mean that you exist. that doesn’t mean that you’re a real person or that you can have your own clothes or your own shoes. you could be real. you’re probably real. you’re probably as real as anything else. you’re probably a real person.

you eat and you shit and you piss. why would you make that up. why would you make anything like that up. why would anybody make anything like you and all that filth that up. why would anything make you up. why would anything make taking shits and pisses and headaches and and hemorrhoids up. why would anything make up pain and fear the slaughter of so many people.

why would anything make up aleksandr solzhenitsyn or jack the ripper or ludwig von beethoven,

why would anything make up all those organs. the interrogators of your body and your mind. 

why would anything make up the crazy house and backwards gowns and paper slippers. why would descartes stay in bed and think about things like that.

maybe descartes walked in circles and wore paper slippers.

why would those things pretend to exist. why would shit pretend to exist. why would the god of suffering and chaos and hatred for no good reason but you don’t belong to the right tribe pretend to exist.  

why would peter van halteran pretend to exist.

last night some woman took a shit in the middle of the floor. some nutjob. you’re not supposed to call them that. she stood there and shit herself and the shit came out all over the floor and the nurse tried to wipe it up with a sponge. all that did was spread the shit all around on the floor so they had to call in the cleaning guy to come up and mop up the shit and the cleaning guy took forever to come so there was all this shit spread all over the floor and the stink of shit all over the ward and the woman just stood there in her shit covered pajamas and her paper slippers.

why would something make that up.

they gave you pills. they gave you clonazepam and quetiapine and some other pills that they made your mouth taste like metal like a gun in your mouth. you washed your teeth and rinsed it and drank four big bottles of water but your mouth still tasted like a gun in your mouth and you have to piss like crazy. you can never stop pissing. as long as you’re alive you’re going to have to piss. the psychiatrist who you never even saw said you have to take the pills even if they make your mouth taste like metal. how could you not exist. they’re giving you pills. they gave alice drugs that made her shrink and made her grow but that didn’t mean she was real. the medicine made her shrink and then it made her grow. but that didn’t make her exist for real. that didn’t make alice a real person. the red queen had to run faster and faster just to stay in one place and no matter how fast she ran faster and faster it didn’t make her a real person.

but peter van halteran is a real person. he exists. peter van halteran is as real as anyone else. as anything else. even if god doesn’t believe in peter van halteran he still exists. the organs do not need proof. just ask solzhenitsyn. the interrogators do not need to prove that they exist. they do not require evidence. evidence is not proof. it’s just evidence. 

the doctors and the nurses do not have to prove that you’re crazy. you have to prove to them that you’re sane. you have to prove that you make sense. you have to prove that you exist. cogito cognition is not proof to the organs. it is not proof to the interrogators or the doctors or the people who push the papers from desk to desk who will destroy you destroy your life without ever knowing that you are anything more than a number or some scribbling on a piece of paper. it is evidence but it is not proof. you cannot prove that you exist. you cannot prove that you are sane. you cannot prove that you make sense. you cannot prove that you are an individual and that your thoughts are your own thoughts or that all the things that you think exist do exist just because you think that they exist.

peter van halteran cannot prove that he is a person. peter van halteran cannot prove that he exists. and peter van halteran cannot prove that he is sane. he is not the organ. he is not the interrogator. he is not not a doctor and he is not a nurse and he is not a person who pushes paper across a desk.

he is just peter van halteran. 

or maybe he’s not.

peter van halteran is just a person. and a person is nothing at all. they can’t prove that they exist either. the organs. the interrogators. the pushers of paper. sooner or later they are going to have to prove that they exist too and they can’t prove it. no one can. or that anything that they’re thinking or anything that they believe is sane. you cannot look into the abyss without the abyss looking right back deep into you. you are not safe. you are not sane. you are not peter van halteran because you cannot prove that prove that peter van halteran even exists. your evidence is only evidence if the organs accept that your evidence is evidence. your sanity is only sanity if the interrogators accept your behaviour as sane. and they are not persons. they are the boot. stomping down on the face of winston smith again and again. they are the organs. they are the interrogators. they are the question. and there is no satisfactory answer no answer that will satisfy them. they are not complete. they are not sane. god is not sane. god is not complete. god is not complete without people to believe in god. the thought is not complete without the questioner. god is not a person. god is the organ. god is the boot. god is the interrogation. god pushes paper across a desk and you cannot prove to god that you exist that you should exist that you are sane because god is insane and walks around in circles with paper slippers that never fit right. god does not believe in the gulags or the holocaust or in charlie manson or in johann sabastien bach. you cannot prove that you exist to something that does not exist. you cannot prove that you are sane to someone or something that is not sane.

it’s enough to turn anybody into a whack job. it’s enough to get anybody locked up in the loonie bin. you’re not supposed to call it that.

and you’re not supposed to call peter van halteran a person. even if he is a person. because you can’t prove that peter van halteran is a person. you can’t prove that he is a real person.

they can’t prove that peter van halteran is definitely absolutely not a real person either. even if they don’t believe that peter van halteran is a real person they can’t prove for absolutely sure that he’s not a real person either. they can’t prove that peter van halteran doesn’t exist. 

the organs don’t want to hear that. the interrogators don’t want you to say that. the doctors and that nurses and the pushers of paper will say that’s all crazy talk but they can’t prove that peter van halteran is not a real person.

he might exist. you might exist. you might not exist. you might be like erwin schrodinger’s cat. you might exist and not exist all at exactly the same time. peter van halteran might exist and might not exist at exactly the same time. he might be walking in circles in his paper slippers and not be anywhere at exactly the same time. that would be crazy. that would be insane. but you’re not supposed to say that. you’re never supposed to say that it’s crazy. they might hear you. the organs might hear you. the doctors the interrogators might hear you.

they might hear you say that peter van halteran exists.

even if he does exist. even if peter van halteran exists. you’re crazy if you think that peter van halteran exists. you’re crazy if you say that peter van halteran exists.

even if he does.

even if he does.

you’re crazy if you think that he does.

you’re crazy if you think that peter van halteran exists.

you’re not supposed to say that.

even if he does.

even if peter van halteran does exist.

you’re not supposed to say it.

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