Fact or Fiction?

I awaken suddenly into another day. Must have been the french fry under my pillow. "Did I go to the drive-thru last night?" Too early for questions, early as dinnertime goes anyways. Back to the grind, as a fresh and never before seen monday lies before me, halfway over as most mundane monday's go. My left foot trembles as it hits the ground, oh yes, that's right, I've finally reached the ground. See, things don't seem to matter much anymore, not since it happened. As I'm raising my face to greet the weeping showerhead, a fat fly bumbles his way through the air towards certain despair. A murderous lair still lies in my heart, and the chairman of its board is my broken spirit. The clearer my mind seems to become the quicker it attaches to troublesome thoughts. Wicked thoughts, those that recieve scorn from generations of misguided people. Raw is my left pinky toe, I try so hard to stop the madness upstairs it displaces it's wonders unto the other regions of my body. Time doesn't exist, but it is so addictive. These words were barely heard by the grace of my right ear, taking over for the deaf left because it lie drenched in more red than white sweat. You've never seen white sweat? I hadn't either. From where were the words propelled? As far as I can remember, they rolled of the toungue of the green monk. A man possessed by ghosts it was said. Rumors out his own mouth. I believed him...his mouth sewed up by villagers so he couldn't speak. His ears dogged by cocroaches. Skin stretched over bone, he used to be quite a big man I hear. When you can't eat or listen to the world through your personal screen it can be kind of uncomfortable. He didn't care. The eyes were what drew me in. As if each were a star that had just burst, creating a vortex that sucked mercilessly at your own. But in these radient pupils there was no hate. Not the despair that shines from despondant crackheads in the street. No, this was something more inviting than a thangsgiving meal with relatives. This was deeper than a girlfriends love. This was more intriguing than a potent street drug. But those things heard with only one ear are easily forgotten. Most of life's lessons are forgotten, that's part of their teaching. You see, there is actually nothing. Your thoughts are not real. Your material belongings are not real. To whom do they belong? You? Who are you? Don't get offended, who am I? I had to ask myself that, see, because my leg had been twisted off. Human birth is more attractive. It only hurt when the tendon connected to my knee snapped off. I guess it was around then that my mind screamed for the answer. One can think many things at once under the right circumstance. What is this body that is so easily destroyed? This must not be the same as that voice in my head. In my head? See, I think...but who am I really? Centuries of scientific data has revealed that the human body is actually empty space, even when theoretically zooming in on the smallest possible particles. Which means that "I" is not anywhere to be found, not in the brain, not the foot, not the heart. So where am I? Ask yourself the same question if you dare...it's actually pretty interesting. What's really interesting is that nothing that we see or hear or smell or taste or fear really exists. You can realize this anytime during your life, no matter what the situation. Once you realize that you are nothing, that nothing is anything than the world becomes a much different place. There is no outside force working it's magic. Nothing outside of your true self can give you anything that you are not already. We are just playing out the stories, and we must like these stories enough to keep suffering for their sake. If we just took a moment to realize what we really are....wouldn't that change things?