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⏝꒷︶ ͡𑁬♱໒ ͡ ︶꒷⏝⏝꒷︶ ͡𑁬♱໒ ͡
I am astonished by the liveliness of the people, their joy shines.
How some can celebrate anything.
Yet I am unable to feel such joy.
I feel only a gratefulness for breathing, for a breath by a systematic system no less.
Everything by design, that I should feel grateful for it, because I am programmed to be so.
But outside of everything else,
there is an emptiness, a shell.
A void and not a space.
For an empty space says there was something there before it.
But a void is always a nothingness upon it.
And I stand in the middle,
between today and tomorrow,
Its love or its sorrow,
Its bitter or its borrowed.
A joy that can not be won, funded nor sold.
Never would there be such a loan.
It seems never given, yet somehow it is already own.
And I shall never know it, a glitter upon the soul.
⏝꒷︶ ͡𑁬♱໒ ͡ ︶꒷⏝⏝꒷︶ ͡𑁬♱໒ ͡
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"I am nothing" 👁️🗨️
Jul. 7th, 2025 06:40 pm
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I am neither death nor life,for I am not dead but I am not alive.
I am not light but nor I be the darkness,
for I have no flame and I have no walls.
I am not good but neither am I evil,
for I know neither as I am.
I am nothing quite simply, everything that was before it became something.
I am not the idea, or the mind,
I am not the thought or its feelings.
I am not a test nor experiment,
I am the void before there was a void.
The word before there were words,
I was the eye before all other eyes,
And spirit before it was known as such.
I am not more,
I am not less,
I cannot be measured,
I am not just one thing, but I am not all things, I am all the things before them.
Any name I am given
cannot conceive of me, for I was not born and I will not die.
I am neither love but nor I be hate,
I am the circle that follows its self.
I am the first dream, I am the last dream, I am the sickness and the cure, I end myself and again I read my own story, perpetually never satisfied with my own ending.
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"8 of swords" ⚔️
Jul. 7th, 2025 05:55 pm
⏝꒷︶ ͡𑁬♱໒ ͡ ︶꒷⏝⏝꒷︶ ͡𑁬♱໒ ͡ ︶꒷
Tape my eyes, now blind I be, never shall I see the sea,
while holding two swords; I swallow five more,
I inflict only pain upon me, that is for sure.
Fire in the belly of some beast,
shadows of my shadow that just won't sleep,
a life spent only counting, counting until the end of me.
Victim I am, victim I'll stay, "Victims aren't we all" as they say.
Settle in my skin while I just pretend; these aren't wounds bleeding again.
Restless is the soul,
and bored is its fool,
the heart has gone cold as death goes to school.
Now which one shall learn?
and which one shall teach?
which one shall follow?
and which one shall lead?
I tell you truly neither one shall ever be me.
⏝꒷︶ ͡𑁬♱໒ ͡ ︶꒷⏝⏝꒷︶ ͡𑁬♱໒ ͡ ︶꒷
"Weightless"
May. 13th, 2025 06:00 pmWho is to know; that which is my own truth?
Who is to say; that which is within my own skin?
What could I give; that is greater than myself?
What part of me; holds weight greater than that of gold?
Who is to blame; if I don't measure up?
What if I am not everything that my dreamer dreamed that I would be?
What risk have I taken to reach myself?
How many more steps can I have?
How many more falls?
What will be the last word I hear?
What will be my last dream within this one?
What will be the last thought I have?
Will I be sad about it in the end?
When I am no longer me, and am weightless?
Who is to say; that which is within my own skin?
What could I give; that is greater than myself?
What part of me; holds weight greater than that of gold?
Who is to blame; if I don't measure up?
What if I am not everything that my dreamer dreamed that I would be?
What risk have I taken to reach myself?
How many more steps can I have?
How many more falls?
What will be the last word I hear?
What will be my last dream within this one?
What will be the last thought I have?
Will I be sad about it in the end?
When I am no longer me, and am weightless?
"Value of a day"
May. 1st, 2025 12:51 pm
If I smile today;
would that make me happy?
If I smile tomorrow;
would that add value to the day?
What could be measured; that would create worth?
or what would be worth the cost of each day's suffering?
What pleasure is worthwhile; that I am so willing to endure another day of scars?
What joys outweigh the sicknesses?
What memories outweigh the pain?
What wonders can I witness?
Is there anything that will justify my existence?
"Not a thing"
May. 1st, 2025 11:40 amI ask not for the light; that my eyes have seen since I was born.
Nor of the darkness; that my soul knows from this cruel world.
But I seek; nothingness, that my weary spirit should finally rest, no longer knowing my coming or my going, my up from my down.
Not a thing should I know, nor shall I be.
And this is the afterlife I seek.
Nor of the darkness; that my soul knows from this cruel world.
But I seek; nothingness, that my weary spirit should finally rest, no longer knowing my coming or my going, my up from my down.
Not a thing should I know, nor shall I be.
And this is the afterlife I seek.
We are not free.
Apr. 8th, 2025 07:36 pmWe are not free.
From the moment we take our first breath, we are bound and weighed by our shell, to its needs, to its every whim.
Suffering is the art of life, and we are its painter.
Death is only a means to an end, when the masterpiece is finished.
From the moment we take our first breath, we are bound and weighed by our shell, to its needs, to its every whim.
Suffering is the art of life, and we are its painter.
Death is only a means to an end, when the masterpiece is finished.
Insignificant
Dec. 10th, 2024 06:56 pmLife has no meaning, it's only value stands with what we place on it.
Even then none of us can make life mean more or less by our own will or thought of it.
We cannot put a price tag on life.
Consideration means nothing.
There is no weight to balance, no scales to consider.
No power, influence, or wealth can create worth.
No self entitlement, self worth, or self love
But neither can charity, generosity or other such acts of giving.
Nothing changes what life is.
Not our ideas, belief systems, cultures, traditions, or anything else that we create.
Life stands in obscurity and absurdism despite our thought of it or our input.
Life lacks all reason and purpose.
Life holds nothing, it hasn't the arms or hands, it neither loves nor hates.
We however being the cruel human beings that we are, can create such love or hate relationships with pretty much anything.
If things are going great; then life is heaven.
If things are going terrible; then life is hell.
When nothing has changed at all.
If there is such thing as enlightenment; it must be to fully understand that there was never an enlightenment to achieve.
That there is no knowledge to gain because we create everything, there's no grand scheme or plan, the bigger picture has nothing in it. And the canvas is only painted with what we painted.
Therefore; if life is a canvas and we look at it; we can either love what we see and appreciate the work of art,
or we can see no talent nor skill in it at all, and therefore to us it is not a painting of art, or beauty but instead simply a canvas.
If we strip everything away, we too are like that : a canvas.
We are voided of everything, we are blank unless we paint something upon our lives, upon ourselves.
Even then it doesn't change what we are.
We are objects, floating around in space, energy moving around until it's worn out, and passes from one state to the next.
We are simply doing what we are programmed to do, moving around, existing.
The eat, sleep,shit, work, reproduce, repeat.
An endless pointless cycle that encapsulates nothing, because there was never anything to encase.
Even then none of us can make life mean more or less by our own will or thought of it.
We cannot put a price tag on life.
Consideration means nothing.
There is no weight to balance, no scales to consider.
No power, influence, or wealth can create worth.
No self entitlement, self worth, or self love
But neither can charity, generosity or other such acts of giving.
Nothing changes what life is.
Not our ideas, belief systems, cultures, traditions, or anything else that we create.
Life stands in obscurity and absurdism despite our thought of it or our input.
Life lacks all reason and purpose.
Life holds nothing, it hasn't the arms or hands, it neither loves nor hates.
We however being the cruel human beings that we are, can create such love or hate relationships with pretty much anything.
If things are going great; then life is heaven.
If things are going terrible; then life is hell.
When nothing has changed at all.
If there is such thing as enlightenment; it must be to fully understand that there was never an enlightenment to achieve.
That there is no knowledge to gain because we create everything, there's no grand scheme or plan, the bigger picture has nothing in it. And the canvas is only painted with what we painted.
Therefore; if life is a canvas and we look at it; we can either love what we see and appreciate the work of art,
or we can see no talent nor skill in it at all, and therefore to us it is not a painting of art, or beauty but instead simply a canvas.
If we strip everything away, we too are like that : a canvas.
We are voided of everything, we are blank unless we paint something upon our lives, upon ourselves.
Even then it doesn't change what we are.
We are objects, floating around in space, energy moving around until it's worn out, and passes from one state to the next.
We are simply doing what we are programmed to do, moving around, existing.
The eat, sleep,shit, work, reproduce, repeat.
An endless pointless cycle that encapsulates nothing, because there was never anything to encase.
Tags:
"Abandon all hope, ye who enter here"🏴☠️
Nov. 11th, 2024 11:11 pm⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
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You are now entering "The book of the dead."
A place of melancholy and shadows that will encapsulate your mind.
Relinquish your hope, for you enter the grounds of the lost ones; dispirited rejected and forgotten.
Leave your sword and pick up some black roses,
For all is dead, all will die, all will become death again.
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You are now entering "The book of the dead."
A place of melancholy and shadows that will encapsulate your mind.
Relinquish your hope, for you enter the grounds of the lost ones; dispirited rejected and forgotten.
Leave your sword and pick up some black roses,
For all is dead, all will die, all will become death again.
..˚⊹. ࣪𓉸 ࣪⊹˚.𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗 𝗠𝗢𝗥𝗘?˚⊹. ࣪𓉸 ࣪⊹˚.
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𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔦𝔩𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔤𝔯𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔫𝔬𝔦𝔰𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔩𝔦𝔳𝔦𝔫𝔤.
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(Tags on the sidebar will give you an overview of the content of this journal. Also the archive has much more to offer. NSFW's are labeled and present due to adult language,themes, rants or triggers.)
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You can also check out
𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗥𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗼𝗺 𝗥𝗼𝗼𝗺 for an assortment of smaller writings.
Or My𝗡𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝗺𝗮𝗿𝗲𝘀, 𝗱𝗮𝘆𝗱𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗺𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘃𝗶𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗷𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗹
Full access to Journal (Which is mostly 𝗥𝗮𝗻𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗥𝗮𝗺𝗯𝗹𝗲𝘀 is by request, or based on online journal activity.
I do back posts quite a bit,so browsing the journal every so often may yield new results.
For my Rewrite of The last of us Season 2.
𝗖𝗹𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝗛𝗲𝗿𝗲
"The Book of The Dead"
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"Death To Death"
Dark my days,
Dark my nights,
Dark my soul has lost its light.
Dark my dreams,
Dark this being,
Dark its heart now lost its sheen.
Into the nothing,
Into the void,
Into the space,
Now what are you looking for?
Death to thoughts,
and death to dreams,
Death to hope for better things.
Death to me, my and I,
Death to self and things of mine,
Death to pain, anger and hate,
Death to death now there is no escape.
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Tags:
If all my days were numbered from one to ten, with one being the best. How many ones do you think I'll have within my lifetime?
And if all my days were tens, eights at the best, what kind of life do you think that is?
If I spend all my time wishing to leave here, then I am not really living am I?
And If I am always fighting to stay, when can I enjoy the staying?
If life cannot be more than this day to day suffering in this useless shell with it's useless needs, if there is nothing more to be found, then the point of life is what?
Meaningless numbers on a pain scale?
Am I as well? Just a number? A rating?
If everything is measured regardless of it's number, and is in fact temporary, then my feelings are as well, however good or bad, but then where is the importance?
If it will always be a merry go round, just turning and turning.
Must my life be all this useless turning, I am dizzy and hardly see how it is worth it.
And if all my days were tens, eights at the best, what kind of life do you think that is?
If I spend all my time wishing to leave here, then I am not really living am I?
And If I am always fighting to stay, when can I enjoy the staying?
If life cannot be more than this day to day suffering in this useless shell with it's useless needs, if there is nothing more to be found, then the point of life is what?
Meaningless numbers on a pain scale?
Am I as well? Just a number? A rating?
If everything is measured regardless of it's number, and is in fact temporary, then my feelings are as well, however good or bad, but then where is the importance?
If it will always be a merry go round, just turning and turning.
Must my life be all this useless turning, I am dizzy and hardly see how it is worth it.
Tags:
Written in stone
Sep. 30th, 2024 09:42 pmThrow my determination out the window, and my
will into the trash can,
Pick up despair like it's a new pair of shoes,
Wearing my numbness like it's a tattoo, as I swear I can't feel a thing.
No intention of being a thing; for life holds no meaning or reason,
nor do I for my existence.
Really it's just a smoke signal,
It's just a yellow flag,
It's just a SOS to my being,
It is all my dreams living as nightmares in my waking,
walking around like a wind up toy,
somehow left at the toy store.
It is just systematic suffering of this pre-
determined life,
Its minutes, hours and days stand for nothing,
just more scars added to my skin,
just more ways to fall asleep again.
And I don't need anything,
and I don't want anything,
and I don't miss anything,
and that's the point isn't it?,
Can't fix what is born broken,
Can't change what is written in stone.
will into the trash can,
Pick up despair like it's a new pair of shoes,
Wearing my numbness like it's a tattoo, as I swear I can't feel a thing.
No intention of being a thing; for life holds no meaning or reason,
nor do I for my existence.
Really it's just a smoke signal,
It's just a yellow flag,
It's just a SOS to my being,
It is all my dreams living as nightmares in my waking,
walking around like a wind up toy,
somehow left at the toy store.
It is just systematic suffering of this pre-
determined life,
Its minutes, hours and days stand for nothing,
just more scars added to my skin,
just more ways to fall asleep again.
And I don't need anything,
and I don't want anything,
and I don't miss anything,
and that's the point isn't it?,
Can't fix what is born broken,
Can't change what is written in stone.
Ones and Zeros
Jun. 30th, 2024 02:39 pmWhat is the value of a soul?
Something I cannot see but is clearly weighted.
Am I to be a slave to a God unknown, to laws forgotten?
or should I be a prisoner to a Devil who delights in suffering?
Yet I suffer still with little regard to eithers supposed doings.
I just exist, with no reason, with no thought, empty like a program, just made to run, just lines of code, just ones and zeros.
Something I cannot see but is clearly weighted.
Am I to be a slave to a God unknown, to laws forgotten?
or should I be a prisoner to a Devil who delights in suffering?
Yet I suffer still with little regard to eithers supposed doings.
I just exist, with no reason, with no thought, empty like a program, just made to run, just lines of code, just ones and zeros.
People don't change, they just pretend to be better today than they were yesterday.
Nothing changes really.
I believe in the constant simulated reality, the roll of the dice.
Everything is decided already.
And whatever you are, and whatever you will do, was always gonna happen.
This is why habits can't be broken, because it is a part of the self, and the programming.
Everything is without hope
Nothing changes really.
I believe in the constant simulated reality, the roll of the dice.
Everything is decided already.
And whatever you are, and whatever you will do, was always gonna happen.
This is why habits can't be broken, because it is a part of the self, and the programming.
Everything is without hope
DNA and freewill.
Oct. 1st, 2022 10:32 amLet's explore the idea of freedom.
What does it mean to be free?
For example one might say I am free to choose what I want to eat,
Yes, but not to eat.
Sooner or later I am required to fuel my body with some kind of food energy source.
To dress, what to wear, no I can't walk out in the nude and if I don't dress properly I can't survive serious weather conditions.
You didn't choose to be born nor where you were born. And place is everything in how you grow up and who you become.
Now one can say you are free to choose how you want to live, who to love, how to identify, and yet even that is coded, everything is DNA.
Someone somewhere down your DNA line was just like you.
Made the same choices,and the same mistakes.
So then my question becomes; how much freedom do we really have when you think about the full input bound to us by DNA?
History has a way of repeating itself regardless of our ideas and belief systems that we can learn from History. Yet it repeats itself time and time again.
It is like a written code we cannot rewrite.
What does it mean to be free?
For example one might say I am free to choose what I want to eat,
Yes, but not to eat.
Sooner or later I am required to fuel my body with some kind of food energy source.
To dress, what to wear, no I can't walk out in the nude and if I don't dress properly I can't survive serious weather conditions.
You didn't choose to be born nor where you were born. And place is everything in how you grow up and who you become.
Now one can say you are free to choose how you want to live, who to love, how to identify, and yet even that is coded, everything is DNA.
Someone somewhere down your DNA line was just like you.
Made the same choices,and the same mistakes.
So then my question becomes; how much freedom do we really have when you think about the full input bound to us by DNA?
History has a way of repeating itself regardless of our ideas and belief systems that we can learn from History. Yet it repeats itself time and time again.
It is like a written code we cannot rewrite.
