Edward had been confined to a single room for a period of two years. He spent his time looking at the walls. Blank walls with blank expressions, but over time, staring at those walls, those walls seemed to grow faces. Not real faces, not faces that can be seen. But faces that you could talk to. You can only talk to the faces and you only talk to the faces because there’s nobody else to talk to. It’s an odd thing, when you begin to talk to those unseen faces on the wall.

The faces become those people that have placed you in that room. You want to scream at them, you want to hurt them, you want to viciously attack them. But then you realise that they’re just faces on the wall. Most people have options. They can step out of the room and go and visit a real person. A real person in a face-to-face situation. But Edward didn’t have an option. No option to walk out of the room and talk to someone else. He had tried that… Walking out of the room and talking to someone else. But when he did so, he was treated in turn with malice and contempt. People despised him for no reason. They blamed him for all of their problems. They never took responsibility for their own actions.

That is when Edward noticed it. Their unconscious actions of projection. Every statement that they would make about him was actually an inner statement about themselves. They pointed at him and proclaimed him guilty. Though this abstraction of guilt was something that he did not quite understand. Why was he guilty? And what crime was he guilty of? Though every time he stepped outside of his room they proclaimed him guilty. He did not understand it. He did not understand the madness that had seized these strangers with violent force, entangling them and producing contradictions.

And so, faced with these perversities of human nature that proclaimed him guilty, he retreated back to his room to discuss with the faces on the wall what was happening. The faces on the walls never answered him. They did not talk back. They did not say that he was guilty of anything. But still he talked to those faces on the wall, those nameless faces on the wall.

And so he would walk out of the room. When he walked out of the room people would call him an idiot or an imbecile. Was this a projection? Did they have enough understanding of his character to make such a proclamation? Or was it their idiocy? If they didn’t pay him any mind or attention to the things that he was doing and called him an idiot. Then it was their projection. How could their conception make an accurate conception of his person if they did not account for the whole person. Having been confronted with a higher understanding of these type of things. He understood that every statement that somebody makes is truly just a statement about themselves. Everyone is talking about themselves… Unless of course they have this realisation in mind. Then they can make a statement about an outside party. But even then that statement is limited to the limited information provided and understood on the subject or object of interest.

Knowing this, when a man proclaimed him an idiot for they could not understand what he was talking about. Edward simply nodded and returned to his room to talk to the faces on the wall. It was a very solitary life… But then every life, becomes a solitary existence. There are just those who understand that the act of company is just an illusion and we are always truly alone. Alone because the understanding of one another is contorted with lies and false proclamations, where truth remains an ever elusive entity.

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