I hope to deaden the call of the void, to cast away this slough of despond. But can I?
I think you often miss that salient point, the terminality of being; To take this transient moment in time for granted. This pervasive nothingness permeates life, however – nothing is forever, and nothing is forever but nothing isn’t sempiternal and definitely not definable and definite even though existence may at first seem — never-ending.
To put an end to it – life that is.
How obscure… How unnatural… How oneself can go (decidedly) against nature and (determinedly) along with one’s beliefs.
For we have not experienced non-existence or even some placebo replacement since we only know how it is to be, however, we have without a doubt existed outside existence since there was, and will be, a time where you and I were no more or no less than nothing.
We have surely been thought about, perhaps not us as we are… But.. Nonetheless, being thought about, in the sense of being in once thoughts before we had been conceived and undoubtedly (hopefully) will after we cease. Now, our minds tainted by simply being, we wish to procreate and oppose the anti-natalism however egocentric the – mass- production of us really is.
It’s mind-boggling, mind-bending and certainly calls for the ability to warp, twist and angle your views to be able to wrap your head around and about the nonexistence (that this is) without going mental – beyond the self lies the higher functions of being, locked away.
It’s a hyperdimensional Pandora’s box and the thought that there was an off chance of having been a figurative ”smear” is, for a lack of words, unnerving.
To be benothinged is the catalyst of diffraction, being negated and indefinable is nothing I espouse. This fringe contingency edging on the borderline Disturbia of today is eye-wateringly sickening.
What am I if not I? I am not without you as you are nothing without it all.
Destroyed coupled souls institutionalized in the madhouse called tellus where my frailty is indispensable.
It is quite disquieting to be stuck in the quiet vertiginous eviternity.
As the itinerant traveler, I’m soaring through the fuscous nugatory vacuum of what is not, drifting in and out of a confluence stream of shattered dreams and (lost) hope.
But to temporarily divagate I need to clarify that I wish not to debase from this trivial existence who’ll inevitably surcease.
Perchance it’s my indifference towards life as it is right now but on countless occasions, I’ve deviated from my path only to derogate from the responsibility bestowed upon me: to be that silent bystander.
How that can even be possible is beyond me, seeing as I see no certain path I can follow, or stray from for that matter; every forked path I’ve ever walked down (from the dilemmas reversed end) invariably converge into one.
I’m just another adscititious projection of someone else and in hindsight, it’s rather odd that I keep up with this desultory search for meaning when it has been repeatedly proven that there is none.
A forlorn hope of actually being important to someone or something – sometime – and then knowing that that will never happen.
But I don’t feel discomfited for being ignored or any discomfort for being alone.
I ask you:
Have you ever channeled your inner insanity and tamed that frenzied beast of madness called ego?
Have you ever reflected upon that this, this intangible and lingering inanity that is made in temporality is the manifestation that equals you?
The building blocks that make you you are only identical consecutive squares devoid of substance lined by mere concatenated strings of vacant space waiting to be filled; the self nothing more than an idle, pointless cavity waiting to be occupied with matter that matters shaped and solidified into the person now staring back at you through a begrimed mirror.