I am close to collapse. Hardly mysterious as to the reasons, but I tend to have a kind of selective amnesia
regarding the consequences.
This... is... not
a cry for help
Let me stress this point. This is not a cry for help. You are but a muse
this is merely a vehicle
This means nothing
. That is something else you have to understand. This means
nothing. You will take what you will of it, but no meaning is intended, and
this should not be used when considering the character of the author. The author
is stagnating. I am starving and suffocating. I'm swimming against the tide
and still hanging in there. I will never drown. Instead, I will live in a perpetual
state of drowning. No absolution
; no sweet, tragic finality. I am and will continue
to be, until the unremarkable end, quietly desperate. Sobriety is lacking;
comes from everything I touch. The author is too passionate about everything
to decide on anything.
And so it shall remain.
No reply can suffice... you must ignore me. It means nothing. You can never
understand the depth of such a character
. I strongly encourage you to sever
ties. The only misery
I feed off is my own. I need abuse
. Without it I would
wither and die. If the tide changed I would be everything I could be, and that
is when I would cease to be. With nothing to fight, I have no excuse not to
be victorious. With no potential left to fulfill I would be useless. Survival
is my only friend.
This stagnation is on a sliding scale that approaches minus infinity
is no conceivable limit to depravity
. When it is reached, there is nowhere to
go but up, and this is contrary to the aims of the organism tapping away at
these keys that pretend to be the slaves of these fingers. I am their slave;
their will becomes me; they speak through me.
is my aim. Staring down the hole, I realise that freefall
is not as easy as it looks. But damnation
on anyone who didn't
think I could sink so low. I will make it to the bottom of the well of vitality
and drink from the fountain of decay
, be my friend.
your hope, Guardian Angel, it weighs you down. I have tasted growth;
I spat it out upon my plate. I respect your wish to progress, and I will wave
to you as we cross on our one-dimensional journeys. Fly on; do not linger in
too long; discard your birthday suit of benevolence
. It, too, weighs
you down. Fly up, and up. Don't look down. Keep going. You're almost there.
I could have been right there beside you. You could have been right here beside
me. However, all used and beaten up as I am, I wouldn't be much of a travelling partner
I will catch your hope as it falls. It will help me reach my destination faster.