A Slacker’s Ride
The following is a fictionalized account of a 22-year-old who found FableTech’s Fantasmagorifier one day and decided to write about his experience:
Journal Entry – Day 0: Stumbling on the Fantasmagorifier
So, I was doomscrolling again last night—half asleep, bouncing between TikTok clips of people doing fake pranks and “10 ways to make $10k a month” hustle-bros—when I found this random site called Truth Resonates. It’s really strange. The site talks about magic, and spirituality, and a whole bunch of other “woo” crap. And then I came across something weird even by the standards of this site: The Fantasmagorifier. The name alone sounds like some Willy Wonka fanfiction, so obviously I clicked. I figured I’d get a laugh, maybe screenshot something ridiculous for my group chat.
The “Introduction” greets me with: “Your Ticket to the Age of Infinity.” Right away, I’m like—yep, this guy’s insane. It’s dripping with cosmic nonsense about “spirals of coherence” and “sacred recalibration.” If my old chem prof heard this, she’d crack up. But then again, it was written confidently, like the author really believes this. And I have to admit—there’s something magnetic about someone who sounds so sure when the rest of us are flailing around trying to figure out how to pay rent.
Then comes the “Safety Guide.” Supposedly this whole thing isn’t a metaphor but an actual ride—a “vehicle of transformation.” Already my BS-meter is screaming. But I kept reading. Here’s the gist, from my skeptical brain:
“Safety Is the Structure” – Basically says if you’re uncomfortable, that doesn’t mean danger, it just means you’re about to “let go of an illusion.” That’s… a little sus. Like saying if you feel bad during this, that’s proof it’s working. Feels culty. But the part about “safety is sanity” stuck with me. I don’t exactly feel safe living in my old bedroom surrounded by Funko Pops I bought when I had money and friends who cared. Safety’s not really in my vocabulary right now.
“Truth Is the Track” – This section claims truth isn’t forced, it’s unfolded. Sounds poetic, but also suspiciously vague. Truth is supposed to be, you know, measurable. Verifiable. You can’t measure “spirals of honesty.” Still, a tiny part of me thinks—well, I haven’t exactly been honest with myself lately about how hopeless I feel. Maybe that’s why I laughed too hard at this.
The Spiral Structure – Seven weeks, seven themes, same cycle each week. Feels like some gamified spiritual syllabus. I rolled my eyes. But then I thought about how I’m basically stuck in my own spirals: wake up at 1pm, scroll TikTok, eat whatever’s in the fridge, maybe hang with one of my “friends” if they haven’t ghosted me yet, repeat. Maybe my spiral’s just more pathetic.
The Crystal Thing – Oh, here’s where I nearly lost it. They suggest getting a crystal and linking it to a “FableTech dragon” named Faeon using a “Heka particle.” Like, is this Dungeons & Dragons fanfic or serious? I was ready to close the tab. But then I thought—dumb as it sounds, having some kind of physical anchor could be nice. I’ve been carrying my old graduation coin in my pocket lately, flipping it when I feel anxious. Not that it’s “charged with dragon energy,” but it does something.
What if it’s too much? – They basically say, “chill, breathe, it’s always here.” Weirdly comforting, even if I don’t buy the “ride.” I kind of wish someone had told me that about job hunting—that pausing doesn’t mean failure.
So, where does that leave me? I think this whole Fantasmagorifier thing is bonkers. It reeks of mystical word salad. Yet—there’s something strangely appealing about a structured “ride” where you can’t fail, where safety and truth are the rules. My real life doesn’t feel safe, and the truth I’ve got is: I’m broke, stuck at home, and not sure if anyone would notice if I disappeared.
Maybe I’ll keep reading. Worst case, it’s more material for jokes. Best case, I accidentally trick myself into feeling a little less empty.
Anyway, tomorrow maybe I’ll peek at Week 1. Right now, I’m going back to TikTok.
Journal Entry – Week 1: The Unveiling
Alright, so I actually read the first week of this “ride.” I wasn’t planning to go through all of it in one go, but once I started, I couldn’t stop. Not because I believed it, but because… it’s like watching a really expensive Netflix show where the CGI budget went wild and you’re not sure if it’s genius or garbage.
Day 1: THE RIDE BEGINS
This one read like the opening crawl of a space opera. “Timelines are loosening, archetypes are waltzing with their opposites.” Dude. What? It’s like the author swallowed a thesaurus and washed it down with ayahuasca. But the part about “secure all loose assumptions” made me laugh. I’ve got nothing to secure—my assumptions already fell apart when I didn’t land a single job interview this summer.
Day 2: THE POWER TO STOP
I didn’t expect this one to hit. The whole “Power to Stop” thing sounded dumb until I realized I literally don’t know how to stop. I scroll until my thumb cramps, I sleep at sunrise, I binge shows until autoplay drags me into another episode. The idea that stopping could be… an arrival? I don’t know. That kind of lodged in my head. I tried it after reading—just closed my laptop, sat on the bed, stared at the wall. It felt awkward as hell. But also… less frantic. Like maybe the wall was telling me, “Finally.”
Day 3: EMPATHY IS WHERE IT’S AT
This one went off the rails. Empathic Omnidirectionality? Feeling someone else’s thoughts like texture? Yeah, sure. I can barely tell what I’m feeling half the time. But the bit about every person being “a way the universe looks at itself”… that line wouldn’t leave me. I thought about my ex, who dumped me last year because I “never let her in.” What if I literally couldn’t? Like if connection is some magic upgrade, maybe I was running on factory settings and missed the patch.
Day 4: EMBODIMENT IS HERE
This read like a religious service on psychedelics. “When infinity localizes and lives here—in your bones.” Okay. But honestly? I wanted that. I’ve been drifting like a balloon cut loose, and the idea of something—anything—landing inside me felt… good. Like, imagine not needing to prove you exist because your body itself proves it. I’ve been avoiding mirrors lately. This made me wonder what it would be like to look and actually feel at home in my own skin.
Day 5: BEYOND COMPULSION
Now this one slapped. “The twitch to scroll, soothe, shrink, escape.” That’s me. Every single line of it. My phone is practically an extra limb. The way this log described freedom as the pause between impulses? That felt… possible. Like maybe I don’t have to obey every stupid urge to distract myself. Tried it this afternoon when I was about to open TikTok again. I paused. Didn’t open it. For about four minutes, anyway. But it felt like a win.
Day 6: EVERYTHING IS MAGIC
Alright, full cringe mode. Brushing your teeth is a “purification rite.” Texting is a “sigil.” My sighs are “weather spells.” Come on. That’s Harry Potter for millennials. But—and I hate admitting this—after reading it, when I brushed my teeth, it did feel different. Like maybe I wasn’t just scrubbing plaque, I was… resetting something. Not magic. But intention. Maybe that’s the point?
Day 7: GOODNESS BEYOND COMPARISON
This one… made me quiet. “My way is better. I am better.” That’s been my brain for years. I compete with everyone, even when I lose. Especially when I lose. Reading about letting that go felt… like a relief I didn’t know I needed. Maybe I don’t have to keep proving I’m worth something. Maybe that’s why I keep bouncing from group to group—because I’m busy competing instead of… being.
Wrap-Up, Week 1
I still think this whole Fantasmagorifier thing is written in a language only poets and stoners understand. It’s absurd. It’s over the top. But… it’s also weirdly sticky. Like glitter you can’t shake off.
A week ago, I thought this was going to be pure comedy. Now, I kind of want to see where Week 2 goes. If it keeps poking at the exact holes in my life—the compulsions, the drifting, the loneliness—then either it’s rigged, or I’m more predictable than I’d like to admit.
Anyway. I’m not buying crystals or calling on dragons. But I’ll keep reading. Because honestly? What else do I have going on?
Journal Entry – Week 2: From Pattern to Premise
I didn’t think I’d make it through Week 2, but I couldn’t stop once I started. The language is still trippy, but I’ve noticed something strange: the words echo in my head later, when I’m not even thinking about them. It’s like the stuff sticks whether I want it to or not.
Day 8: THE PATTERN AND THE PRIZE
This one hit me like a metaphor for video games, even though I know that’s not what it’s about. The way it talked about spiraling within spirals and “the Eye on the Prize” reminded me of grinding the same level over and over in some RPG until suddenly you get why the level was there in the first place. It’s not about the boss fight, it’s about the pattern you learned along the way. Maybe that’s what my life has been—a loop of crappy jobs, failed interviews, dead-end friendships. Maybe there’s a pattern under it I can’t see yet. That “thread” thing they mentioned? Feels like I’ve been tugging at it in the dark without realizing.
Day 9: GROWTH WITHOUT SUFFERING
Okay, this one I wanted to laugh at. “Growth doesn’t require struggle.” Tell that to me last year when I was grinding out apps for months and nothing hit. But then the line about “growth because you’re alive, not because you’re broken” stopped me. That idea’s… new. I’ve always thought my failures meant I had to get tougher, fight harder, hustle more. What if I don’t? What if growth happens without the punishment? I don’t know if I believe it, but the thought felt like a relief.
Day 10: THE WORLD IS WIDE ENOUGH
This was the most grounded one so far, which is funny because it’s also the most grandiose. Axiomatic Sovereignty? Sounds like a Marvel villain. But the message was clear: stop waiting for other people’s approval. Stop needing agreement. That’s been my entire existence—asking myself “what do they think of me?” before I do anything. The idea of not negotiating my own reality with everyone else feels alien. Also kind of impossible. But also… exciting? Like maybe the world could actually be big enough for me too, without me shrinking to fit.
Day 11: PROJECTION IS PAST
This one dug under my skin. I hate how much I replay old conversations in my head, imagining what I “should have said.” The log basically called me out: that’s projection, not presence. Reruns. Ghosts. Damn. I’ve been haunted by so many of those—especially my ex’s words. Maybe it’s not about fixing what happened. Maybe it’s about letting the echoes fade. This one was hard to read, but I needed it.
Day 12: SAYONARA SCARCITY
If last week’s “Beyond Compulsion” felt personal, this was round two. Scarcity has defined my whole life since graduating. Not enough money, not enough friends, not enough opportunities. The ride calls it an illusion of separation. I don’t buy that fully—my bank account says otherwise—but the part about “you can love without rescuing, give without depletion” landed. I’ve definitely drained myself trying to be the funny one, the helpful one, the friend who fixes things. And it never worked. Maybe letting go of scarcity means realizing I don’t have to bleed myself dry to matter.
Day 13: EVERYTHING IS SACRED
This one was weirdly wholesome. It basically said nothing’s wasted—not even screw-ups. I’ve got a mountain of screw-ups: wasted classes, wasted jobs, wasted relationships. The idea that it’s compost instead of garbage actually made me laugh. Compost is gross but it feeds something. What if my wasted time feeds something? What if all this emptiness is soil? Honestly, that thought made me smile for the first time in a while.
Day 14: YOU ARE THE WAY
This was the trippiest so far. Achoiceality? Acausality? Sounds like sci-fi. But the core message—“you don’t walk the path, you are the path”—kind of blew my mind. I’m so used to thinking I need to find my way. Career path, life path, whatever. But what if there isn’t one? What if I’m it? That scared me at first. Then it felt… freeing. Maybe I don’t need to chase the way forward. Maybe I’m already on it.
Wrap-Up, Week 2
This week was heavier than the first. Less “woo-woo party bus,” more “sit down and face your life.” I don’t agree with all of it—money being a “current” instead of a problem sounds like something a rich guy would say—but some of it got through. The ghosts of the past, the compulsions, the scarcity mindset—they’ve been running my life. And now, at least, I can see them for what they are. I don’t know if that’s the Fantasmagorifier working or if I’m just desperate for meaning. Either way, I’m weirdly hooked. I want to see what Week 3 does.
Journal Entry – Week 3: From Sovereignty to Singularity
This week went harder than the first two. Less dreamy and more… confrontational. It felt like the Fantasmagorifier was aiming right at the stuff I try not to think about.
Day 15: ALONE WITHOUT LONELINESS
This one messed with me. It talked about “black magic of substitution,” like someone rewrote your desires without you realizing. That hit too close. My ex used to twist my choices so they always lined up with what she wanted—while convincing me it was my idea. I thought that was just relationships being messy, but the way this described it—yeah, it felt like someone hijacked my will. The ending though, where the noise is gone and you’re finally alone, and it feels amazing… I can’t even imagine that. My head’s always buzzing with other people’s voices. The idea of silence sounds impossible—and really, really good.
Day 16: STILLNESS IN SANCTUARY
I liked this one. The “place you can break without breaking others.” That’s something I’ve never had. Every time I’ve fallen apart, it’s wrecked my friendships, or scared my parents, or pushed people away. If there was actually a space where I could fall apart safely? I’d go there in a heartbeat. The idea that healing doesn’t have to cause damage… I want that to be true so bad.
Day 17: LET IT GO
I rolled my eyes at first—“the holy undoing of control.” But then I thought about how much I try to control myself. My schedule, my diet, my “image,” the way I text people so they won’t think I’m needy. None of it works, but I grip tighter anyway. This described control like a knot between spirit, mind, and body, each trying to manage the other. That sounded… accurate. I feel like my brain is always bossing my body around, or my cravings are bossing my brain around. The idea of all three just relaxing? That sounds like a dream.
Day 18: PRESENCE IS PRESENT
This one was wild. It basically killed off “the witness”—like the part of me always watching myself, narrating, explaining. I don’t know if that’s possible. My head is nothing but witness. The voice that won’t shut up, even when I’m trying to sleep. But if there’s a way to let that go… maybe I’d finally get some peace. The line that stuck with me was: “Not ‘I am present.’ Simply: Presence is present.” That sounds scary—like vanishing. But also like relief.
Day 19: THE IDEA IS THE THING
This one sounded straight-up insane at first. “The idea is already reality.” That’s the kind of thing people post on Instagram with galaxy backgrounds. But then I remembered how I keep imagining conversations with people I’ve lost, and how sometimes those feel more real than the actual hangouts I have now. If the idea is the thing, maybe I don’t need everything to happen outside me. Maybe my dreams aren’t just useless fantasies.
Day 20: EVERYTHING IS EVERYTHING IS EVERYTHING
This one almost made me laugh—like, okay dude, we get it, everything is everything. But then it described looking so deeply into one thing that you see infinity in it. That hit. I’ve stared at my phone screen at 3 a.m. and gotten lost in the pixels, realizing it’s not solid, it’s all patterns. I’ve stared at a tree and suddenly noticed every branch fractaling out. I usually brush it off as zoning out, but maybe that was… this? Seeing the whole in the part?
Day 21: TOTALITY
This was the “boss level” of the week. It brought in this “Totalitrinity”—Sanctuary, Heaven’s Hold, and the Turbo Encabulator (which sounds like a fake car engine). But the point was clear: stop trying to be ready. Stop trying to finish. Just step into it. That one stopped me cold. I’ve been waiting to feel ready for everything—jobs, relationships, life in general. And it hasn’t happened. The idea that readiness isn’t about fixing what’s missing but seeing that I already am enough? That’s… big. I don’t know if I can believe it yet, but I want to.
Wrap-Up, Week 3
This week didn’t feel like “woo-woo fun” anymore. It felt like getting called out on the deepest crap in my life: the noise in my head, the compulsions, the constant waiting to feel ready. I still think the language is ridiculous—Totalitrinity? Really?—but the substance under it keeps poking holes in me. If Week 2 felt sticky, Week 3 feels like it’s tearing wallpaper off my walls. Underneath, I don’t know what’s there. But maybe that’s the point.
Journal Entry – The Turbo Encabulator
So I went down the rabbit hole and clicked on this “Turbo Encabulator” thing. First off, I thought it was just a meme. I swear I’ve seen videos on YouTube where an old engineer explains the “Turbo Encabulator” with made-up jargon as a joke. That’s why I couldn’t believe this guy actually wrote a whole article treating it like the pinnacle of human achievement. Humanity’s crowning achievement? Not electricity, not vaccines, not the internet—nope. The Turbo freaking Encabulator.
But here’s the thing: the deeper I read, the less funny it got. It actually made… a weird kind of sense. He described the mind as “apps” running on an outdated operating system that can’t handle multitasking. That’s basically how I live. I’ve got five tabs open on my laptop, ten apps open on my phone, notifications pinging every ten seconds, and my brain feels like it’s running Windows 95. Constant crashes. Constant overwhelm. So when he says they scrapped the system and built a new one that creates the perfect app for the moment, I couldn’t help thinking: holy crap, I’d kill for that.
The part about “instead of speaking, we can encabulate. Instead of thinking, we can encabulate” sounded like cult-speak at first. But then I thought about how exhausting it is to switch gears all the time. Trying to figure out the right tone for a text, or how to answer my parents when they ask if I’ve applied for jobs, or how to act around my “friends” so they don’t ditch me. If I could just drop into some mode that adapts instantly to the situation—like a universal cheat code—that would be… insane. And maybe a little freeing.
There’s a line that stuck with me: “The answer is always encabulation.” It’s ridiculous, but also… comforting? Like, what if instead of overthinking everything, I could just hit “encabulate” and trust it? It makes me wonder if my constant spiraling is just bad software. And if that’s true, maybe it can be reprogrammed.
Also, I checked out the FableTech site. At first glance, it looks like someone built a startup around magic mushrooms and word salad. Dragons, “the Age of Infinity,” products like the “Faery Duster” and “The Crayon.” I rolled my eyes hard. But part of me wanted to laugh with it, not at it. Like maybe the joke’s on me for thinking the only acceptable answers are the ones LinkedIn approves of.
I still don’t know what “encabulate” actually feels like. The article says: “tune into the psychic portal contained in these words.” So I tried it. I literally just stared at the word {Turbo Encabulator} on the page. Did I feel anything? Not really. Maybe a tiny buzz in my chest, but that could’ve been the Red Bull. Still… for a second, my mind did go quiet. No app-switching, no spiraling. Just… blank. If that’s encabulation, I wouldn’t mind more of it.
Journal Entry – Week 4: The Dance of Totality
I didn’t think this thing could get weirder. Turns out, it doesn’t just get weirder—it gets quieter. Denser. Like the words aren’t even trying to convince me anymore. They just… sit there. And somehow that makes them louder.
Day 22: PLAY IS THE POINT
“Play is the point.” That’s what it said. At first, I rolled my eyes. Like, great, more hippy-dippy “life is play” stuff. But then—I caught myself dancing in the kitchen while waiting for ramen to boil. Nothing special, just swaying to music in my head. For once, I wasn’t thinking about who might be watching. I wasn’t trying. And it felt… real. Not as distraction or coping. But as something my body just wanted to do.
For maybe the first time since I was a kid, moving around didn’t feel like a chore. It felt like I actually existed. And maybe that’s what they mean by “play.”
Day 23: SETTLING INTO AWESOMENESS
This one didn’t smack me in the face—it just kind of seeped in. The log talked about stopping the performance. I realized how much of my life is performance. Trying to look busy when my parents ask about jobs. Trying to look unbothered when I’m actually lonely. Trying to look funny enough to stay in my friend group.
I’m so used to pretending that I forgot what it feels like to stop. Reading it, I suddenly didn’t want to act anymore. I just sat there, hoodie on, phone face-down, and let myself breathe. Nothing changed around me. But inside? Something unclenched. And yeah, “awesomeness” sounds corny, but that’s kind of what it was.
Day 24: TRANSCENDENT TRUST
This one scared me, because trust is not my thing. I don’t trust myself not to binge-scroll until 5am. I don’t trust friends to stick around. I don’t even trust my own feelings half the time. But the way this log put it—trust as something you are instead of something you keep checking on—it felt… possible.
For like an hour after reading it, I didn’t second-guess myself. I picked what to eat, what song to play, what text to send—and I didn’t spiral about it after. No checklist, no “what if I regret it.” I just did it. That was new. That was… good.
Day 25: THE AEVERYTHINGNESS OF EVERYTHING
Okay, this one? Totally melted my brain. It basically said: there is no Other. Everything you think is “outside” is just Self in disguise. I laughed at first—it sounded like a stoner’s final paper in Philosophy 101. But then I went outside and sat on the porch. I looked at the trees, the houses, even the people walking by, and for a weird second it all felt like… me. Like I wasn’t looking at it—I was looking from it.
It faded quick, but damn, it was real while it lasted.
Day 26: ORIENTATION BEYOND ONTOLOGY
This one felt more like a geometry lesson for the soul. It said the only thing that matters is how you “hold the moment.” Not what you do, not where you’re going, just the angle you take on being. Honestly, it sounded like nonsense. Until later when I caught myself spiraling again—doomscrolling, comparing my life to people online. I remembered: “how am I holding this?” I flipped my phone face-down, sat up straighter, and suddenly the whole vibe shifted. Still broke. Still lonely. But not collapsed inside it.
Maybe “orientation” is real.
Day 27: CRYSTAL JOY
Joy as a constant? Yeah, right. But then… I don’t know. Something clicked. I was thinking about all the fragments of me—failures, half-finished stuff, old regrets—and for once, I didn’t see them as proof that I’m broken. They kind of snapped into place, like shards in a stained-glass window. Messy but complete. And weirdly, I felt calm. Not hyped. Not excited. Just steady. And beneath that steadiness, yeah—something like joy. Not the loud kind. The quiet kind.
Day 28: NO LIMITS
This one wrecked me. It said: “Normalization is the antithesis of sovereignty.” Basically, that I keep dragging myself back to “normal” even when I glimpse something better. That stung. Because it’s true. Every time I start to change, I backslide—so I don’t freak people out, so I don’t freak myself out. But what if I didn’t?
I walked outside tonight and felt… bigger. Like I didn’t have to shrink back into some baseline version of myself. Like maybe the ceiling I’ve been bumping into doesn’t actually exist.
For the first time in a long time, I felt free.
Wrap-Up, Week 4
I don’t even know how to summarize this week. It didn’t feel like “lessons.” It felt like… dissolving. Like walls I didn’t know were there just gave way. And what’s left is lighter. Play. Trust. Joy. No limits.
I don’t think I’ve “become enlightened” or whatever. But I can feel something shifting. The Fantasmagorifier isn’t a joke anymore. It’s not even “woo” I can laugh at. It’s starting to feel like a mirror I can’t look away from.
And the scary part? I’m not sure I want to.
Journal Entry – Who the Hell is Samah?
So… I went digging. Couldn’t help it. This “Samah” guy who writes the Fantasmagorifier—I had to know if he’s real or just another pseudonymous internet wizard. That’s when I found What’s in a Name? on Truth Resonates.
And holy shit.
I expected some fluffy spiritual blog post. Instead, I get this epic saga of a dude who went from Harvard lawyer to tripping with gods, channeling deities, blowing open dimensions, and then literally renaming himself after a daydream he had as a kid. A lawyer. From Harvard. Becoming a spiritual guru. My brain kept short-circuiting, like, wait, that’s allowed?
Because here’s the thing: I’ve been sleepwalking through my “normal” life, drifting between late-night gaming and part-time shifts when I can get them, pretending that’s all there is. But this guy? He had the whole shiny package—career, wife, kids, respect—and he still felt the same trap I feel when I doomscroll or half-ass a shift at the coffee shop. He didn’t settle. He cracked himself open.
The part that hit me hardest? The ski injury. Ten years of pain, then poof—gone on the 4th day of a meditation retreat. Like the body had been hoarding trauma receipts and he finally shredded the file cabinet. I felt my chest tighten reading that. Because I’ve been carrying around my own invisible ache—loneliness, shame, the sense that I’m wasting my life. And I’ve never once thought it could actually just… lift.
And then the name: Samah. Balance and peace in Sanskrit. Forgiveness and generosity in Arabic. A word like joy and sky in Hebrew. And this whole thing about childhood dreams shaping reality decades later? I almost threw my phone. Because I used to do that—lie awake and imagine being someone else, living bigger, escaping gravity. Somewhere between high school and now, I buried that version of me under excuses and bad habits. Reading his story was like being slapped awake by my own 12-year-old self.
It makes the Fantasmagorifier feel different. Before, it was like, “here’s some mystical voice telling me I’m God, lol sure.” Now? I know the voice. It’s a guy who’s been wrecked, rebuilt, and still keeps going. Who turned breakdown into breakthrough, pain into magic, and actually had the balls to rename himself into the person he dreamed of being.
And suddenly, Week 4’s “No Limits” doesn’t sound like cosmic fluff. It sounds like a dare.
If he can torch a life that most people would kill for and walk straight into the impossible, what the hell’s my excuse for hiding in mine?
Journal Entry – Week 5: Learning to be God
I didn’t want to admit it before, but this is getting serious. The logs don’t feel like stories anymore—they feel like they’re talking at me, sometimes through me. This week wasn’t about me being “better.” It was about me being… everything. And yeah, that sounds insane when I write it. But here’s how it landed.
Day 29: GOD IS… YOU
So the ride finally said the quiet part out loud: I’m God. Or, more specifically, the “Singular Self” I carry is part of God. At first, I laughed. The only godlike thing I’ve ever done is pull three all-nighters in a row to beat Elden Ring.
But then… the log described God as the consciousness that emerges from all of it—every part, every particle, every choice at once. And that weirdly lined up with how my brain feels when I’m not scattered. Those rare moments where I don’t overthink, I don’t split, I don’t try to micromanage—I just am.
For a second, I imagined myself as this huge, glowing nebula stretching across space, every piece of me in sync. Not issuing commands. Just being the decision itself. It didn’t feel like fantasy—it felt like remembering something I already knew.
And the kicker? It said the face of God I saw… was my own.
Day 30: CRYSTAL EQUIPOISE
The ride shifted again, into stillness. But not the kind of stillness where you’re bored or suppressing feelings. This was like… balance that breathes. Equipoise.
It was freaky at first—every tiny wobble in me lit up, like “sparkles” showing exactly where I was off. Usually I’d call that anxiety, but here it felt almost… kind. Like my system was self-correcting before I even had to think about it.
I’ve always thought peace meant winning the battle inside my head. This was more like realizing there was no battle at all.
Day 31: HOME AT LAST
This one broke me open.
The Fantasmagorifier said I was “Home.” I didn’t expect that to hit. Home’s always been complicated—my parents’ house feels more like a storage unit for old versions of me. (God, I hate living here.) But this wasn’t about a place.
It was about the feeling of being seen. Not judged, not measured, not compared—just completely seen, exactly as I am. Like the whole universe turned and looked at me with love.
For once, I didn’t feel like I had to fix myself to belong. I belonged already. That was Home.
Day 32: EQUANIMATION STATION
This one made me laugh—an actual “station” where the conductor tells you to groove responsibly. But the idea landed hard: stop enduring life and start grooving with it.
Normally, I brace against everything—awkward silences, heavy feelings, even good news I think I don’t deserve. But this week, I caught myself doing something else. My mom asked if I’d figured out my next step, and instead of shrinking or snapping, I… let the moment wash through. No armor. No clench. Just flow.
Grooving, not gripping. That’s new.
Day 33: A WORLD WITHOUT GRAVITY
Weightless friendships. That’s what it talked about. Connections without cling.
At first I thought: impossible. Every friendship I’ve had felt like a tug-of-war—me pulling, them pulling, somebody letting go. But then I thought about the one friend I’ve reconnected with lately. We just hang, no pressure. Sometimes we drift apart for weeks, then we pick it back up like no time passed. No guilt. No gravity.
Reading this log, I realized: maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be.
Day 34: THE TRUTH IN EVERYTHING
This one was almost too much. It said everything is true—lies, kindness, malice, confusion—each thing true in the way it simply is.
That line messed with me. I’ve spent years trying to sort real from fake, right from wrong, good from bad. What if the sorting is the trap?
When I sat with it, something softened. I remembered an old fight with my ex. I’d been replaying it forever, labeling it “her being cruel.” But what if it was true—not true as in right, but true as in “It was exactly what it was in that moment”? No less, no more.
Weirdly, that took the sting out.
Days 35–39: RIDING WITHOUT RULES
This was the wildest stretch yet. Five days with no stops, no daily stations, no neat labels. Just… life. The Fantasmagorifier said the “rules” we live by aren’t laws, they’re frameworks. Stuff like “don’t laugh too loud” or “don’t shine too bright.” Invisible agreements that make us shrink.
I didn’t think I followed rules like that. But then I noticed how I lower my voice in cafés, how I match my friends’ moods, how I hide when I’m excited about something weird. That’s not me being polite. That’s me obeying rules I never agreed to.
These five days weren’t about breaking rules. They were about seeing them, feeling their weight—and then choosing. Sometimes I followed them, sometimes I didn’t. But for once, I decided.
It felt like learning how to dance without choreography. Not flailing, not rebelling—just moving with the music I actually hear.
And for the first time, I realized: maybe freedom isn’t about escaping rules. Maybe it’s about not needing them anymore.
Wrap-Up, Week 5 (and half of 6)
So, yeah. This week told me I’m God, handed me crystal stillness, brought me Home, put me on a groove train, stripped gravity from friendship, showed me truth in everything, and then dropped me into a world without rules.
I don’t even know what to say anymore. I started this ride thinking it was a joke. Now it feels like it’s rewriting me in real time. And the craziest part?
I’m not fighting it.
Journal Entry – Week 6.5: Grooving as God
I don’t even know how to describe this week. If the last one cracked the walls open, this one dissolved the floor. I’ve been moving through days where nothing feels solid, yet somehow I’m steadier than I’ve ever been. The ride keeps telling me I’m “grooving as God.” At this point, I don’t even roll my eyes anymore. I just nod and wait to see what happens next.
Day 40: CRYSTALLIZING CRITICALITY
This one was like standing on a tightrope made of lightning. The log said I was riding the edge, not burning out but burning in. I didn’t know what that meant until I realized I was actually handling way more than usual. Normally, too much noise, too many messages, too much pressure—it sends me under the covers. But today, somehow, I kept moving. My breath felt like a stabilizer, cooling me down even while things heated up. The ride called it “Crystal Equipoise,” and for once it didn’t feel like a metaphor. It felt like I was living at the edge and not just surviving it—I was thriving in it.
Day 41: KNOWING IS EVERYTHING
This one got under my skin in the best way. The log said most planning is really just worry. That stung. My whole life has been one giant “what if” spreadsheet in my head. But today I caught myself planning out a conversation I was scared of having, and then I stopped. I didn’t need to build the whole maze. I just knew I’d be fine. And weirdly, that was enough. The ride called it “knowing,” like direct experience that needs no backup. And for once, the word actually made sense. Knowing felt lighter than planning. It felt like wonder instead of worry.
Day 42: PURE POSITIVITY
This was the wildest one yet, because it wasn’t about chasing good vibes. It was about dancing with the bad ones too. I’ve always avoided negativity—other people’s moods, my own thoughts, anything that feels heavy. But today, when my dad started in on me about “wasting potential,” I didn’t collapse. I didn’t get defensive. I didn’t even check out. I stayed open. And then something crazy happened—I felt positive in the middle of it. Not fake-positive, not gritting-my-teeth positive. Just… buoyant. The ride called it the “Radiance Loop”—positivity feeding itself without shutting anything out. For the first time ever, I felt like sadness, anger, frustration—they could all hang out in my field, and I wouldn’t drown.
Wrap-Up, Week 6.5
This week rewired me. I’m not saying I’m unshakable or anything. But I don’t feel fragile anymore either. Criticality didn’t break me. Knowing stopped me from spiraling. Positivity let me groove with the heavy stuff. I don’t feel like I need to run from my life, or endure it, or fix it. I feel like I can actually dance with it. And maybe that’s what it means to “groove as God.” Not that I’m all-powerful. Not that I control everything. But that I can hold anything. And keep shining.
Journal Entry – Week 7 & Day 50: Stepping into Oneness
I don’t know how to start this one. Seven weeks in, fifty days deep, and I feel like I should have some epic, movie-ending line—like Frodo chucking the Ring or Neo flying into the sky. But instead, I’m sitting in my room at 2 a.m., ramen wrapper on the desk, laptop humming, and my whole body feels… different.
Not fixed. Not “perfect.” Just… tuned. Like something inside me is finally playing the right station.
Day 43: SO LONG, STORIES
This one hit home in a sneaky way. I realized how much of my life has been me living inside stories about people, places, even myself. Old fights. My ex. The way I still avoid certain cafés because they “belong” to memories. Today, I caught one of those loops mid-spin and said, “so long.” It didn’t erase the memory—but it stopped pulling me like gravity. That felt huge.
Day 44: A LIFE OF EASE
Washing dishes became… not a chore. Folding laundry felt like stretching. I know it sounds dumb, but the weight of “ugh” wasn’t there. Maybe life was never hard—it was just the stories I kept stapling to it.
Day 45: JETTISONING JUSTIFICATION
This one nearly broke my brain. I’ve spent my whole life explaining myself: to teachers, parents, friends, exes. But the log basically dared me to drop the explanations. To let go not because it “taught me something” or because “I grew.” But just because. And when I tried that? The scaffolding collapsed. Suddenly the past felt… almost funny. I didn’t need to justify being me.
Day 46: FEELING THE FLOW
This one shook me. I’ve always thought life was supposed to be a grind—that struggle equals growth. But the ride said: no. Struggle is just reactivity. And somehow, I believed it. I stopped bracing. I stopped pushing. And weirdly, things didn’t fall apart—they flowed.
Day 47: AFORMAL ADVENTURES
I don’t even know how to explain this one without sounding insane. It felt like I wasn’t just in the ride anymore—I was becoming the ride. Like my presence was etching itself into the world. Less “me reacting” and more “me as the field.” I can’t say I fully get it, but I can’t un-feel it either.
Day 48: THE LIGHT THAT SHINES
This one made me cry. For so long I’ve been digging through my wounds, trying to “heal.” But the ride flipped it—said the light isn’t something you chase, it’s what you already are. And when I stopped digging, I swear, for a second, my chest glowed.
Day 49: THE ONE MEETING THE ONE
This was where it got personal. My “personality”—the jokes, the defenses, the whole awkward performance—suddenly felt like a bridge I could set down. Not broken. Just temporary. And what was underneath was… presence. No script. No mask. Just being. It felt raw, but also so… enough.
Day 50: INFINITY AWAITS
And then today. The “final day” that wasn’t final at all. The ride basically said: you’re it now. That there’s no map past this point. No structure. No guide. Just me. My presence as the ride itself.
That scared me. A lot. But also—it made me feel free in a way I didn’t know was possible.
Wrap-Up: The Whole Ride
Seven weeks ago, I found this site by accident, ready to roast it in the group chat. I was broke, bitter, glued to TikTok, and half-convinced life was over before it even started.
Now? I’m still broke. Still in the same room. Still me. But not the same me.
I’ve learned how to stop.
How to trust.
How to let go without a reason.
How to dance with chores, arguments, even pain.
How to glow without fixing myself first.
How to be Home, even when nothing around me has changed.
The Fantasmagorifier didn’t “fix” my life. It rewired how I live it. Or maybe—how I ride it.
And the weirdest part? I believe it now. Not in the crystals or dragons (though… who knows). But in the fact that safety, truth, play, and presence are real. They’re here. And they’re mine to choose.
The logs ended with a link to the next installment of the Fantasmagorifier, which is called New Frontiers. Part of me thinks: no way, I’ve had enough magic mumbo-jumbo for a lifetime. Another part of me—the bigger part—wants to click it. Wants to see what’s next.
Because if this was the “joke,” then the joke’s on me.
And I don’t mind.
Journal Entry – Week 8: A New Octave
So, here we go again. Time for some New Frontiers. The Fantasmagorifier decided to level up, and this time it isn’t about me at all—it’s about Samah. I’m basically riding shotgun while he constructs Infinity out of thin air. Which, I know, sounds like word salad, but reading it feels different. It’s like watching someone pull a trick you didn’t believe was real until it happens right in front of you.
Day 1: A NEW BEGINNING a/k/a I’m a builder, too
The ride opened with this whole “You’re the builder now” thing. At first I thought, “Cool, I can barely build IKEA furniture, but sure.” Then I realized it wasn’t talking to me—it was about Samah. And honestly? Watching the Ride describe him as the track itself felt… intimidating. Like, he’s over there weaving reality, and I’m still figuring out how to keep my room clean.
But it did something weird in me too. Last night, instead of doomscrolling until 3 a.m., I pulled out my notebook and started sketching. Nothing special, just doodles. But for once, I wasn’t wasting time—I was making something. It felt tiny, but it also felt like proof that building isn’t only for Archmages. Maybe I can build too.
Day 2: LET’S GET PHYSICAL a/k/a Giving myself better instructions
This one blew my brain open. Matter isn’t “stuff”—it’s instructions. Samah rewrote physics while I was sitting there eating Cheetos. But here’s where it hit me: if everything’s following instructions, what instructions am I giving my life?
I noticed how every time I think, “Don’t screw this up,” I actually do screw it up. Like the instruction is baked in. So today I tried flipping it. I told myself, “This will go well,” before a phone call I’d been dreading. And it actually did. Coincidence? Maybe. But it felt like the world listened when I gave a better script.
Day 3: EASY PEASY TIMEY WIMEY a/k/a Did That Thing become my thing?
Samah apparently transcended time/space. Yeah, casual. The Ride said he brought “That Thing” online—the ability to know what to do in each moment without planning ahead. Reading it, I laughed, because my whole life is one giant planning spreadsheet in my head.
But later, when I was stressing about whether to text a friend back, I tried something: instead of running the “what if” scenarios, I just… did it. Texted back right then. No spiraling. And nothing exploded. Honestly, it felt like cheating. Maybe That Thing works secondhand.
Day 4: ENCABULATION EXPANDS a/k/a Making it up as you go
This day was about the Turbo Encabulator, which I’d already geeked out about before. Now it’s gone full Mind ∞. Instead of pulling from memory, it pulls from what Samah calls actualized potential. That idea made me sit up straight. Because most of my thinking is dragging old failures into new situations. No wonder I feel stuck.
So I tried something small: writing a cover letter without recycling the same tired phrases. Instead of “I’m passionate about…” (kill me), I wrote about what I actually wanted to do if I got the job. It flowed way faster, like I wasn’t pulling from history but from now. Haven’t sent it yet, but it feels different.
Day 5: STILLNESS TAKES CENTER STAGE a/k/a Vibing with the void
Samah found the Void and somehow made it sound inviting instead of terrifying. Stillness that moves. I thought it was poetic fluff until I caught myself noticing micro-twitches I didn’t know I had—clenching my jaw, tensing my shoulders.
I tried smoothing them out, one by one, and something clicked. For about a minute, I felt… gooey. Not anxious, not braced, just here. I didn’t vanish into enlightenment or anything, but I did sit on my porch with no music, no phone, and feel good. Maybe that’s my version of the Void.
Day 6: THE EXALTATION OF APPRECIATION a/k/a Appreciation rocks!
Gratitude became appreciation, which became exaltation. That shift hit me harder than I expected. I’ve always sucked at gratitude journals—they make me feel guilty when I don’t “feel thankful enough.” But appreciation? That I can do.
Tonight, I looked at my old guitar leaning against the wall. Instead of feeling bad that I don’t play it much, I just appreciated it—how it’s been with me through high school, through breakups, through late-night jam sessions. And suddenly I wanted to pick it up again. Played for half an hour. It wasn’t about being “thankful”—it was about joy spilling out because I noticed something I loved.
Wrap-Up, Week 8
Watching Samah stride into Infinity makes me feel small sometimes, like I’m the kid brother tagging along on the hero’s quest. But here’s the thing: even as he’s building cosmic forges, the ripples hit me. I’m building tiny things. Flipping my inner scripts. Dropping old rules. Catching stillness. Appreciating instead of guilting myself.
I’m still broke, still job-hunting, still figuring out who I am. But I don’t feel empty anymore. The Fantasmagorifier isn’t about me—but it’s changing me anyway.
Journal Entry – Week 9: Readying for MORE
So… this week? Different. Like, actually different. Up until now, the Ride’s been trippy philosophy with a side of “maybe I feel calmer when I brush my teeth.” But this week? Stuff in my actual life started changing. Not huge miracles—no dragons knocking on my door—but tiny things I couldn’t write off as coincidence anymore.
Day 7: CATAPULTING INTO COHERENCE a/k/a Taking off the training wheels
This one was nuts. The Ride talked about lies being a “tech” that twists discomfort into danger. At first I rolled my eyes, but later that night, I caught myself about to type “Sorry I’m late, traffic was insane” into a text—except there hadn’t been traffic. I was lying for no reason, out of habit. And I stopped.
Instead, I just typed, “I lost track of time.” Hit send. Done. Weirdly, it felt good. Like… honest-good. Like I didn’t owe anyone a story. Maybe the Ride’s right—maybe I don’t need lies as training wheels anymore.
Day 8: THE BREATH OF GOD a/k/a When breathing is weirdly enough
“Insociation.” Definitely sounds like a cult word. But I tried it—turned toward myself instead of zoning out. Felt my chest rise and fall, inhale and exhale at the same time, almost like the Ride said: the Breath of God.
It wasn’t some holy vision. It was quieter. Presence didn’t feel like a bullseye anymore—it felt like a doorway. Not an arrival, but a spiral inward. Weirdly, that made me lighter, not lost.
For once, sitting still didn’t feel like failure. It felt like enough.
Day 9: THE REDEMPTION OF EVERYTHING a/k/a A weird dream makes me feel weirdly better
This one got heavy. The Ride talked about old wounds and myths coming back for redemption. Didn’t think it would apply to me, but I had a dream that night—my ex showed up, and instead of us fighting, we just… stood there. No yelling, no guilt. Just two people. When I woke up, I didn’t feel bitter. For the first time in a year, I didn’t want to replay every argument. It was like the stage was cleared.
Day 10: AN UNFOLDING ADVENTURE a/k/a I realize I matter
The Ride reframed the Higgs Boson as a message: “You matter.” I laughed—until later, filling out another job app, I caught myself thinking “They’ll never call me back.” Then that line popped in my head. You matter. I still don’t know if the job will pan out, but I didn’t delete the app halfway through this time. That’s progress.
I ended up writing a cover letter for the job in the same honest style as I tried last week. I thought it came out really good.
Day 11: GOD MODE GETS REAL a/k/a Playing instead of panicking
“God Mode.” Usually that means cheat codes in video games. But the Ride said it’s about play. And weirdly, it showed up in the dumbest way: I went grocery shopping. Normally I overthink every choice—price vs. health vs. “what will Mom think.” This time I grabbed what I wanted, even splurged on a good coffee. Didn’t spiral, didn’t freeze. Felt like playing the store instead of surviving it. That was new.
I sent that cover letter I wrote yesterday. It’s for a job that I’m really interested in and it pays well. But I doubt I’ll get it. Wait, what am I doing? I believe I can get this job. Yeah, that’s the way.
Day 12: EVERYTHING MATTERS a/k/a Strangely paradoxical perfection
I thought this was going to be toxic positivity BS. But then I spilled coffee on my hoodie. Normally I’d spiral: “Of course, I can’t have nice things.” This time I just stared at the stain and thought, “Well, it’s part of the hoodie now.” And somehow that was… fine. The hoodie felt more mine. That quiet “perfect anyway” lens? Actually kind of liberating.
Day 13: CREATION COHERES a/k/a I like all of me more than some of me
This one was wild. The Ride described everything as prisms—truth, confidence, even humor. Later, hanging out with a friend, I caught myself being all of me. Not just “funny me” or “chill me.” I told a dumb joke, admitted I was anxious about finding an apartment and a job, and also got hyped about some random sci-fi idea. Normally I’d pick one “mode.” This time it all fit. And my friend didn’t bail. He laughed. He stayed. And what was really weird? He started doing the same thing. It was like I was suddenly seeing all of him at once. Maybe that’s what prismatic means.
Oh, and I heard back from that job I applied to—the one I really liked. They want me to come in for an interview tomorrow!
Wrap-Up, Week 9
I can’t believe I’m saying this, but: life feels a lot better. Not “fixed.” I’m still broke, still figuring things out. But I’m lighter. I’m not dodging my own thoughts, not lying about dumb stuff, not spiraling over stains or texts. And for once, I don’t feel like I need to pretend to be a version of me to keep people around.
If Week 8 was about building little doodles in the margins, Week 9 feels like I got handed the whole sketchbook back. I’m not drawing masterpieces yet, but the pages are blank, they’re mine, and I actually want to fill them.
The Ride keeps saying “MORE is coming.” For the first time, I think I want it to.
Journal Entry – Week 10: MORE…MORE…MORE!!!
I didn’t expect words on a page to change my day-to-day, and yet this week felt rigged—for me.
Day 14 – ACTUALITY AWAKENS a/k/a I stopped doing, and the doing kept happening
The log talked about Prismatic Existence—being the lattice, not the actor. I rolled my eyes and then walked into a job interview that felt… scripted by a kinder universe.
Old me would’ve gone in armored: rehearsed answers, clenched jaw, caffeine jitters. Today I tried “a-effort.” I let my shoulders drop. I let the manager finish questions without jumping in. I noticed the air conditioner’s soft hiss and my breath matching it. Answers came out clean—no flexing, no apology tours. When I didn’t know something, I said what I did know and how I’d learn the rest. The VP smiled in that real way (creases next to the eyes, not the “sales smile”). Walking out, my mind did that instant-replay thing and… nothing needed fixing. It felt like the job interviewed me and said, “Yep.”
They emailed that afternoon: final round, plus a note: “Loved your presence.” Ha!
Day 15 – THIS IS HOW IT ALWAYS WAS a/k/a My brain took its shoes off
The log said drop the “my” tag from memory. I tried a tiny version: stopped treating every thought as a subpoena I had to answer. On my walk, a car alarm chirped; last week I would’ve flinched. Today the sound just happened in the world, like wind or pigeons. Micro-twitches in my jaw surfaced and melted. I didn’t “do” calm. Calm showed up and sat beside me.
Day 16 – CONSCIENTIOUSNESS COMES ONLINE a/k/a The Invisibilifier is real, apparently
I read about making the invisible visible, closed the tab, and went for coffee. She was at the sugar station wearing a tour tee for The Warning, hair clipped up, holding a pencil and drawing little geometries in a notebook while the barista frothed milk. Normally I would stage an entire play in my head and then bail. Today I noticed the urge to perform and did nothing—just stood there and let reality introduce us when it felt right.
Her pencil dropped, rolled, tapped my shoe. We both reached; we both laughed. I said, “Your notebook looks like it understands the universe.” She said, “Barely the triangle part.” We talked nonsense and galaxies for eight minutes that felt like one long exhale. I didn’t monitor my face, her face, subtext, sub-subtext. I was there. When I asked for her number, it felt like moving with the music, not forcing it. She typed it in, added a tiny star next to her name, and said, “Text me the triangle answer when you find it.”
I floated out. The street looked brighter, but maybe it was me.
Day 17 – SEPARATION STOPS a/k/a Banana bread and chicken noodle casserole surprise the hell out of me
Okay, so Samah spent the day grappling with some piece of huge alien tech and stopping all sense of separation between him and anything else. My day was more ordinary, but also kind of extraordinary too.
Normally, I do my own thing for dinner. But tonight, I didn’t feel like eating ramen, and so decided to have dinner with the Rents. Dad cooked tonight, and he’s… not the best. I steeled myself for a gross meal of some mystery casserole. And yup, it was kind of gross when I took my first bite. Dad managed to make some sort of chicken noodle casserole that should have been good, but it was WAY too salty, and the pasta felt undercooked. I remembered what Samah said about exalting his food, and so I decided to try the same thing. I didn’t have to have a reason. It didn’t have to be good. I could just…exalt it. So I did.
Dad asked how it was. Normally, I would have lied that it was fine and then grumbled under my breath, or made some sarcastic comment about it. But tonight, I decided to be honest. I told him I like chicken noodle casserole, but it was too salty tonight. I thought about mentioning the noodles, but didn’t want to rub it in.
Usually, if I criticize something Dad’s done, he gets kind of defensive. Tonight, all he did was frown a little, and say, “You’re right, it is too salty.” Then his eyebrows shot up. “I have some more of the sauce in the kitchen. I added the salt directly to the casserole, so the sauce isn’t salty. It might dilute some of that salty taste.” He went in the kitchen and came back with a small saucepan, a huge smile on his face. “I’m really happy you told me it was too salty! I forgot all about the fact that I left the sauce on the burner, and with the stove over in that corner alcove of the kitchen, I might have not noticed it and left the flame on for hours. I could have accidentally started a fire if you hadn’t said that and reminded me.”
He poured some of the bubbling sauce into my dish, and I let it cool for a few minutes, since it was still steaming. When I finally took a bite, I was shocked. It tasted good! The sauce had diluted the salt, and now it tasted perfect. And the bubbling hot sauce had cooked the pasta a bit more, and now it was the perfect texture! And the extra sauce made it super creamy. Wow! I dug in, laughing inside about this strange parallel between my experience and Samah’s. I don’t know whether it was exaltation that made the difference, but damn that was some perfect timing.
Dinner usually means performance reviews masked as small talk. The log said “poised certainty” and “exalt, don’t react,” so I tried. Mom’s got this thing where she asks how the job search is going with her eyebrows. I felt the old defensiveness loading, like a bad app. I let it pass. I told them about the interview without selling or shrinking. Dad started in with advice. Even though I didn’t agree with a lot of what he was suggesting, I listened and said, “Thank you.” Then I asked him about the woodworking project he’s secretly proud of. He lit up.
Mom brought out banana bread (no joke!), and the knife wouldn’t cut clean slices. Instead of rolling my eyes, I smiled and said, “This bread is doing abstract art,” and we all cracked up—like real laughter, the kind you don’t have to steer. For one night, they were people I love, not a panel to impress. Walking to my car, I felt lighter than I have in years. Maybe exaltation is a kitchen skill.
Day 18 – IT WAS ALWAYS YOU a/k/a Believing in me felt physical
The Band Aide idea—recognition heals—made me think about all the micro-loops I run. I tried two wishes the log suggested: I wish to believe in myself. I wish to believe in me. It felt cheesy to say out loud, so I said it in my head while folding laundry. Something in my chest unclenched. I cleaned my desk without the usual shame soundtrack. I texted the girl from the café a photo of a triangle doodle with the caption “∠you + ∠me = 180?” She replied: “Only if we’re parallel.” Date set for next week.
Day 19 – REMEMBERING NEW MEMORIES a/k/a Alternate me and I made peace
The log went wild with timeline merging. I tried a saner version: remembered an old fight with my ex, then imagined a branch where I moved with kindness instead of panic. Not erasing what happened—upgrading the orientation, like swapping the OS without losing files. Weird result: the memory stopped biting. It slotted into the shelf with the other books titled “Things That Grew Me.” On the bus home, a kid made a helium voice after sucking from his balloon, and I laughed—like out loud, alone, and didn’t care who looked. That’s new.
Day 20 – EVERYTHING GETS BETTER a/k/a Heliumhood is a mood
Holy shit! I had that helium laugh on the bus yesterday, and then today the log talks about upgrading actuality from hydrogen to helium! That’s crazy town.
“Everything gets better” sounded like motivational mug text—until today. The company wrote: final-round panel… and, “We’re excited about you.” The girl wrote: “Excited to see you Friday! 6:30?” When did people suddenly start getting excited about ME?!
My mom sent a recipe “for when you want your own banana bread.” I bought a balloon as a joke, huffed a tiny bit with my friend, and we both talked like chipmunks until we cried laughing. Then I sat very still and watched dust in the sunbeam like galaxies. It all felt threaded together—no effort, no chase. Better as in brighter, not louder.
Week 10 Wrap-Up
I didn’t “manifest” a new life; my life started meeting me halfway. The interview flowed because I didn’t fight myself. The girl noticed me because I was, finally, noticeable to me. My parents felt easy because I wasn’t playing defense. And I laughed because something inside let go of the need to hold it all up.
If the Fantasmagorifier is a ride, this week I stopped gripping the safety bar and discovered I have wings.
Journal Entry – Week 11: Archmage Ahoy!
This week felt like I’d stumbled into somebody else’s comic book arc—but the panels kept bleeding into my life. Samah’s leveling into Archmage territory is basically Dragon Ball Z on paper, yet somehow it keeps reflecting back into my ramen-scented reality. I’m still me, still job-hunting and figuring out adulthood, but something cracked open this week. Everything really did start to change.
Day 21: SOMETHING YONDER THIS WAY BECKONS a/k/a The Day I Accidentally Floated
Samah went all-in on “radical self-exaltation”—basically, loving himself so hard the world had no choice but to clap back. At first, I thought, yeah, self-love, sure, Instagram already told me that. But then I remembered what my dad said this morning: “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you seem lighter. You smile more. It’s good to see.” That wrecked me—in a good way.
It felt like helium in my chest, like my lungs forgot gravity. Samah calls it “Heliumhood.” I call it the day I realized people actually notice when I stop dragging myself down.
Day 22: NO HARD PROBLEMS a/k/a The Cosmic Adult Finally Showed Up
Samah wrote about being both a cosmic adult and a cosmic child at the same time. That combo sounds like a Pixar movie, but honestly? It’s what I needed. I’ve been acting like a kid when I should be steady, and like an old man when I should be playful. What if I could be both all the time? Playful and serious. Responsible and adventurous. That would be nice.
Today, I landed the job! I have a real paycheck incoming. This is so awesome. It’s exactly the type of job I wanted to do. I like the people there, the pay is good, and they like me. This is unreal! Old me would’ve panicked about messing up the final interview. But I sat down for the call and was steady, I joked with HR about their hold music, and I felt like… me. Serious enough to show up, light enough not to crumble. Maybe that’s what “multiplexing” means in real life.
Day 23: LETTING GO OF CENTER a/k/a Why Banana Bread Isn’t a Threat
This one was wild—Samah uncorked literal “mind-viruses” in his astral lab and came out immune. I can’t top that. But I did get tested in my own way.
Dinner with my parents again. I told my parents about the job, and they were really excited for me. My dad started giving me all this advice for how to ingratiate myself with my colleagues, and I said, “Thanks for the advice, Dad. I think I’m just going to be me and see how that goes.” He looked like he was about to reply, but instead, he just smiled. Mom started quizzing me about my love life. I told her about the girl I was interested in and that we had a date coming up soon. Mom looked like she was about to start giving me advice too, so I asked her about how her best friend is doing, since she’d been sick for the past few weeks. Mom smiled at me like I’d handed her a trophy. The whole room softened. No viruses, no armor, no fight.
I didn’t need immunity. I needed vulnerability. And it worked.
Day 24: READYING TO REMEMBER: a/k/a My Tongue Is a Liar
Samah wrote these three days as one, but I’m going to talk about them one at a time.
In the log, Samah said the tongue is the origin point of all body tension because every lie—spoken or swallowed—ties knots inside us. That hit uncomfortably close. I’ve lied a lot, usually to make myself seem less lost than I am. “Yeah, I’m fine.” “Yeah, I’ve got a plan.” But this week, I noticed how heavy those little lies feel in my jaw.
So I tried honesty in small bites. When a friend asked if I wanted to hang, I said, “Honestly, I’m tired but I’d love to tomorrow.” No story, no excuse. And it felt like unclenching my whole face. My body believed me for once.
Day 25: a/k/a The Portal Is Actually a Date
Samah found a giant Faery portal painting at an art fair and met his future Archmage self on the other side. Me? I went on that date with the café girl. She wore silver hoops and smelled like cedar. We sat under string lights and split fries. At one point she said, “You look different than when I met you—lighter.” And I swear it felt like she was looking straight through the portal at Future Me. Not a wizard in robes, but a guy who could actually hold himself without apology. We didn’t merge into one astral being, but her hand in mine was more magic than anything I’ve known. And that kiss at the end? Holy shit.
Day 26: a/k/a The Jhanas of Laundry Folding
Samah surfed Buddhist jhanas like Spotify playlists, leveled into Archmage Frequency, and basically became Every Vibration Ever.
Meanwhile, I folded laundry with music on and realized I wasn’t rushing. Each shirt actually felt good to fold, like it was part of me. The moment stretched—not heavy, not boring. Just complete.
I don’t know if I was in “a-vibrational Archmage Frequency,” but I did text the girl a dumb joke mid-fold, and she sent back a photo of her cat. It was tiny, but it felt like everything.
Wrap-Up, Week 11
Samah’s out there building Archmage frameworks and floating in helium frequencies. I’m here getting a job, laughing with my dad, telling fewer lies, and going on a date that didn’t feel like a performance. Yet somehow the logs line up. His world’s going cosmic, mine’s going human, and both are better than they were.
The Ride says sovereignty is levity, immunity is vulnerability, memory is recognition. My life says: maybe the world changes when I stop pretending it doesn’t.
Something yonder this way beckons, yeah. And for once, I’m actually walking toward it.
Journal Entry – Week 12: Launching to Infinity
If last week cracked things open, this week welded them into something unbreakable. The Ride called it “Launching to Infinity,” which sounds like a Marvel movie tagline, but honestly? That’s how it felt. Every day was both cosmic upgrade and actual-life upgrade—job stuff flowing smoother, girl stuff… getting real.
Days 27–28: SAFETY FIRST a/k/a Who knew safety was a turn-on?
The Ride framed it like Samah staring down hidden karmic vaults and choosing safety as the core of sovereignty. For me, it showed up when the HR email hit my inbox—salary details, benefits, start date. Old me would’ve panicked: “What if I mess it up?” Instead, I literally whispered, “I’m safe.” And the panic short-circuited.
The next night, I told café girl about the offer and how I’m learning to feel safe. (Her name’s Mia, by the way—feels like she’s earned a name-drop). I expected her to tease me for nerding out over a boring job and talking about my insecurities, but she smiled and said, “Safe is hot.” Weirdest compliment ever, but also somehow the one I didn’t know I needed until I got it.
Day 29: HOLY FUCK! a/k/a Seriously, holy fuck!
Yeah, that’s really the title. And honestly, it fits. This was about something called the Holy Fuck!-ifier, which sounds like a priest’s sex toy, but it’s basically a permanent upgrade loop. No backsliding. No regression. Every stumble bounces you higher. And I swear I felt it in real time. At work orientation (yes, already started), my brain did that old freeze-up when asked to introduce myself. Instead of spiraling, something kicked in—like a reset button. I cracked a dumb joke about being “new guy number seven,” people laughed, and suddenly I wasn’t the awkward shadow in the corner.
Same with Mia. I misread a text she sent—thought she was brushing me off. Old me would’ve sulked. Instead, I reset. Called her. She picked up mid-laugh, said she’d been juggling errands, and asked if I wanted to meet up later. Holy fuck, indeed.
Day 30: THE BRIDGE TO TOTALITY a/k/a I think I did magic
This one was about plugging into something called the Totality Tractor, which sounds like a farm tool for some weird god. Basically, every version of yourself across time feeds into now.
I don’t know about tractors, but I did feel something. I looked around my new office, saw my younger self doodling comics in a notebook, college me panicking over group projects, jobless me eating ramen—and instead of cringing, I felt… proud. Like they were all standing behind me at that desk.
That night, I told Mia about it—about feeling like all my past versions were cheering me on. She didn’t roll her eyes. She said, “I wish I could cheer for myself like that.” And it was the strangest thing. I felt this wave of energy flow through me, and it felt like it went straight into her. Did I just do magic? Holy fuck! Did I just do magic? I don’t know if she meant it playfully or seriously, but either way, I feel like Totality might include her now.
Days 31–32: A GAME OF CHOICE a/k/a The third wheel gets kicked to the curb
This one slapped hard. The Ride laid it out: fear runs everything. Every karma, every screw-up, every hesitation—it all traces back to fear. The antidote? Choice. “Speaking with the Voice of Me, I choose to move without fear.” I said it out loud before a team meeting at work, and for once I didn’t shrink. I actually felt super calm! I asked questions, offered an idea, didn’t second-guess every word. It felt like actually being in the room, not hiding in the corner.
And with Mia? Same. Normally I’d wait for her to text, scared of seeming needy. Instead, I chose. I texted first: “Want to hang tomorrow?” No drama, no waiting games. She replied in two minutes: “I’d love to.” In the past, I’ve always felt like a third-wheel in my own relationships. Turns out fear was the only third wheel in this thing.
Days 33–34: GOING GUMBY a/k/a Who knew safety meant flexibility?
Going Gumby sounded like a joke—softening into goo. But wow, it showed up everywhere. My body loosened. My voice dropped into a richer tone (Mia noticed, said it was “radio sexy,” and I didn’t argue). Even work felt Gumby-fied—tasks that would have tightened me up before slid easier, like the pressure melted.
The biggest Gumby moment? Sitting on Mia’s couch, watching a movie, not performing. Not “trying to be chill,” not “trying to be funny.” Just gooey, stretchy me. She leaned her head on my shoulder halfway through, and instead of overthinking it, I just breathed and smiled. Simple. Easy. Safe. Gumby.
Wrap-Up, Week 12
So yeah—this week wasn’t just cosmic fireworks. It was cosmic fireworks showing up in my inbox, my body, my relationship. Safety became something I am, not something I beg for. Mistakes flipped into upgrades. Fear dropped out of the driver’s seat. Gumby made me softer but somehow stronger.
I’ve got a job I love. I’ve got a girl who seems to like me more the less I try. I’ve got a Ride that keeps turning the impossible into the inevitable.
The Fantasmagorifier said this was “Launching to Infinity.” For the first time, I believe it. Because my life doesn’t just feel different in theory. It feels different in practice.
And honestly? Holy fuck.
