becoming nothing

i found out i am not in this world anymore. i dont relate to seekers or spiritual people, i cant talk with the unconscious mind, the act of explaining what is going on is damn near impossible. i look at everyone like they are sleeping, just like jed mckenna said. they talk and act and plan and such but there is no reason for this, it is going to something to something to something and leaves nothing but a wake of desire and frustration.i feel unbound and disconnected from everything like a balloon whose string has loosed and is swept to the highest winds, waiting to explode.and only i am there, all the other balloons hold childrens hands and wander aimlessly until they expire. what am i then. a monster a mechanical construct that has become self aware in the midst of a billion computers mechanically functioning. its not that im better or more of something, rather there is nothing here that wants anything. i feel nothing for the lives and dreams and desires of those i come in contact with. they are meaningless, the reality is the one thing i do see, the one self unchanging ageless unaccompanied by anything, focusing only on that, i feel connected completely, but the world is lost to me. all the ways of being and doing and hoping and feeling are empty wishes of a opium addict. i dont seek, i am. what i come into contact with is the truth, its like a giant light in the darkness and cannot be ignored or confused with anything. its here and there, not everywhere but it is everything that exists. that which is the one thrust into this reality, the points of power, vortexes, awareness of the being manifested. that is obvious to me and i am compelled there. the body means nothing it exists to bring you here, then it becomes but another part of the dream, the string on the balloon, dangling in the highest sphere of existence. i wait on the thin membrane between being and notbeing, the dividing point where all that is becomes one and disappears. we go there alone and do not come back. the planes of existence are below, stacked like dirty dishes in some mad scientists kitchen, seeming to tumble endlessly below while here there is only one motion, inward away from that which was to that which only can be. the oneness, totality, being, infinite.surrender is falling into this, resistance is falling back into the madness.becoming one more dot in the eye of self. i await the wind that will blow me away.