The poet picked up his phone and began to type his text. But he didn't send it to just one person, he sent it to several. Not the people he thought were smartest, not the people he thought were the most 'spiritual' and not the people who would give him the most sympathy. Or empathy. He sent it to people who aren't judgemental. People who might understand.
It read - "I'm so terrified of being 'normal' I'm tempted to join the multitudes of people who have stopped pretending to be sane. I don't think anybody's sane, we just find different ways to distract ourselves from our abnormalities - like jobs and gym memberships. This game I'm playing is old as sin but new to me, it's called 'get money'. It's tiring but I have to admit, it's less boring than it looks."
He wasn't sure why he sent it. Was it for a smart reply, or for spiritual advice, or for sympathy, empathy, or criticism? Maybe he wanted to be talked out of it.
Mel, a rude-girl he met in his hometown of Winchmore Hill in London simply replied "wat da fuck u on about?" It amused the poet.
Chris Thomas PI replied "Amen brother."
The Cosmic Trigger Pulling Pixie was a tad more philosophical with her reply, but she was also not too serious, ""Hehe! Just think of urself as a double agent... You can launch operation 'get money' whilst remembering you're invisible really ;-) ur still fighting for the right side... Even if u r stealing enemy tactics!! x x hugs x". Vastly appreciated but essentially she's slightly mistaken. He's not fighting for either side, 'I'm playing for fun and working for love' thought the poet. The Invisibles and the conspiracy they're fighting against? "Same address".
Flatpress (of Goldie Looking Chain) had one of the most concise responses. "The money/power game IS sin. its not r game but that of illumin types. It alone can send u crazy. However u have 2 lose yor mind b4u can come 2 yor sense's". It reminded the poet of Pixaels quote, something about mind-shattering gnosis and love being the only thing there is. That's a hard pill to swallow when you are swapping your freedom for cash but all the poet had to do was shut his eyes and he knew it to be true.
Imaginary Forces. He didn't even expect a reply from his imaginary friend, but he got one. "Anyone who cannot cope with life while he is alive needs one hand to ward off a little of his despair over his fate... but with his other hand he can jot down what he sees among the ruins, for he sees different and more things than the others: after all, he is dead in his own lifetime and the real survivor. Kafka Oct 19, 1921" This stunned the poet into still silence, perhaps the best state to be in. It was exactly what he wanted to read, but he did not know it until he read it. What was more extraordinary was Imaginary Forces response to the poets thank you, "I was up town at the time so I had to think up off the top of my head something that was relevant". for an imaginary frined the man was well read, the accuracy of the quotation or the date was irrelevant. If the poets talents go unrewarded perhaps he won't feel so bad if the talents of his imaginary friend are well received.
But the poet was given hope, because there was yet another text message. The poet was given hope because he had given hope to another. A neglected friend. "I want to say well done for tackling the question of authenticity at work. When you give up pretending to be sanewhat is there? Genuine spontaneity is rare. it's risky. I feel rage at not being myself and now that rage forces me, so to speak, to take risks." Hope, but also an inkling of danger. But at least the poet was congratulated for his musings, he knows that his ego is his own cage but it was comforting nonetheless. And now he has a more noble purpose, to console the neglected friend about his rage, and to help question the risks. To stop neglecting.

He thought about what it takes to be a 'real survivor'. When they burned down Martin Luther Kings house in a failed attempt to kill him and his family did he say "I'm sick of these crackers, fuck this pacifism bullshit, I'm gon' go get me a gun?" Did he say "that's it, I give up, I'm gonna open a book store, join the KKK, and watch television for the rest of my life?" Did he fuck. He said "I have a dream", a dream where the children of the people who tried to kill him walk hand in hand with his own children. That's why the poet loved him so much.

Then he realised why the CTP Pixie was right all along. Because in THIS dimension, at this level of understanding there ARE opposites, there IS duality. "Negative and positive are illusions but bet you'll find they're persistant in three dimensions just like time..." the poet had written, only a few months ago.
The book she had recommended, the book by which she was named, expressed exactly what the poet had gone through, it was as apt as the inspiring Kafka quote, and just as empowering...

"...Arlen had a conversation with Tim, in which she expressed gratitude for the example he had given us during the last three years of his confinement. 'You convinced us that it is possible to transcend suffering' she said...
Tim said, 'That's the whole point of all my work on brain change!' He hugged her excitedly. 'That's it! You've got it! Positive energy is as real as gravity. I've felt it'
Two hours later at the door, Tim was stopped by one of our guests with a final question before he left.
'What do you do, Dr Leary, when somebody keeps giving you negative energy?'
Tim grinned that special grin of his that so annoys all his critics. 'Come back with all the positive energy you have' he said.
And so I learned the final secret."

Read the Tao Teh Ching and eat purple flowers. Neither are likely to kill you.