I wither every day. I can feel the crinkle of dry leaves on my skin. It’s a silent autumn day in the cerebrum. Decay. Decay. Decay. I feel imprisoned. I feel misguided. I feel enlightened. I feel like lighting illusion on fire. Reality will never be enough. Purpose will never be enough. A higher dimension will never be enough. A tranquil realm will never be enough. Pain will never be enough. We’re cursed. I’m destined to be an ingrate. You’re destined to tell me I’m doing great.
We’re all executing our loops. Breaking out of it is not an option because of God, creator, developer, programmer, superhuman, posthuman, or inconceivable omnipotent. Everyone is one and the same. My mind tells me I’m not its prisoner. Rather, it tells me we’re in it together, that the Earth is the prison and gravity is our shackle, and the stupid are sentenced to die on this planet—like me. I can never achieve escape velocity. I accept that. The intelligent are supposed to leave. Can’t fight Elon Musk in a battle of wits.
So, I must perish. You thought Hunger Games was intriguing. We’re playing the Intelligent Games, fools. May the smartest leave to discover what’s beyond. May the stupid continue to think this is life. Choose what you believe, but don’t choke me and fill my throat with a doze of your reality. Let go. Your grip is suffocating me. I can’t stomach this chicken feed. It’s putrid. It’s poison. I reject it. I dream of being freed from this human farm. We’re disintegrating as best as we can, as best as we always have. Humankind rots to the core. Goodness is a fart in the eye of the storm. My heart flutters as I smash the alphabets on my laptop. I don’t want to feel. Shh…I think someone just heard us.
Wonderful Humans Who Let Me Use Their Artwork for Free
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