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A note from F-rank Human

I hit a bit of a writer's block on this one. It was really hard to squeeze out this part and I'm not really satisfied with the end result, so I'm sorry if you don't like it but I can't really find the motivation to redo it...

I’m floating among an endless sea of darkness and nothingness. The darkness is giving off the feeling you would get if you were looking into a bottomless abyss. It makes you feel so tiny and insignificant, you are forced to acknowledge just how miserably meaningless your life and all of your struggles and passions and you yourself are. You feel as if you are going to be swept away in this darkness without even making as much as a small ripple, without making a sound, to be lost and forgotten, forever.

It’s a lovely feeling, to be honest.

This place reminds me of that other place I spent a lot of time being sealed in, where I had to idle away, looking at souls be born and flee to the edges of reality to find their places and continue with this useless cycle of life and death.

I’m bored. It’s not because I have nothing to do or I have nothing to worry about. It’s just that it’s my default state. Ever since I was born, only time itself knows how long ago it was, up to this point I have perceived life as a dull and boring spectacle, I’ve only seen a bunch of self-important buffoons show just what big fools they are and try to force their pitiful life to have something like a meaning.

Even without the buffoonery that goes hand in hand with sentience, the world is dull.

Though naturally to recognize something as ‘dull’ and ‘boring’ one must have sentience too. Since I have already established that buffoonery goes hand in hand with sentience it means that I too am a buffoon. Which means that I also make a fool out of myself, just by virtue of observing and drawing my conclusions, I am making a fool out of myself. Of course, those who can recognize me as a fool, are fools too.

I have been tricking myself with making myself busy and having worries, I have been putting on a one-woman show for myself, I have been pretending to live and have the same emotions as everybody else around me and every now and again I would forget I played and believe that that elaborate play was the truth.

The lifeless me felt alive. Looking back, it does seem so amusing, like a toddler being proud of saying a long word.

Now that I’m here I once again remember just how meaningless all of it is.

I would die, but it’s stupid to throw away your life just because you can’t understand it.

And I’m feeling bored.

This annoying feeling is slowly building up pressure on my mind, making me feel horribly miserable, it’s painful, it’s unbearable, it drives me mad.

Something inside wants me to wreak havoc and sow chaos and discord and bring death and destruction. It wants blood. It wants me to drown this feeling of boredom in blood and misery and despair of others, it thinks that the cries of pain will be louder than the annoying feeling of complete silence in my head.

It wants me to play with the hearts of those who trust me, it wants to see them cry. Perhaps guilt can overpower that feeling.

It wants me to do despicable deeds, things so horrid that any normal person with even a shred of conscience would vomit their stomach out if I were to describe them, just to feel alive.

An ocean of blood, a rain made of bones. Tears drowning the universe, wailing ringing from one end to another.

It’s so tempting. I am reveling in the visions of suffering I imagine.

I am getting bored again. Not good. How about doing something new? After the massacre is over shall we give them hope? Shall we give rise to heroes that will bring light of the new era to the tormented universe?

Too tedious, it stinks of boredom.

What do I do? How do I find salvation?

There’s no hope in destruction, there’s no meaning in creation.

There’s nothing worth living for. Is there really a need for me to live?

Think. How did you answer that question before? Why did you decide to carry on?

So many views, so many answers. Nothing too convincing.

But I don’t want to meet the abyss. Because once you get lost in it, there’s nothing. It’s the end.

Fear. How stupid. How wonderful. I feel shame and happiness, I feel alive again. Fear! Is the answer fear? Or is it just a fleeting emotion?

I want to understand myself, I want to know what I want.

I look inside my mind. There’s a grotesque figure, a wriggling mass of slimy mass with many disfigured mouths and eyes. It looks disgusting, it looks wonderful.

Is it me? No wonder it looks so broken then.

No, it’s not me. It’s just a part. Near it there’s a beautiful angelic creature that causes the feelings of worship and awe to surge from within. It’s so pure, it makes me want to protect it as something sacred and untouchable. It deserves love. It makes me feel revolted.

Everything is a part of me. There’s no darkness, there’s no light, it’s just me. Even the abyss is a part of me.

There’re countless forms and figures in the darkness. Some make me feel attracted to them, some make me want to run away. Most I can’t even notice. All are me.

Somehow, I accept all of these parts. I can’t bring myself to love them, but I can’t deny them.

And I don’t feel bored now. I probably will feel bored again, but it’s these moments when I feel alive that I live for. And I want to live.

I feel a pull on my mind again, it’s bringing me back to reality. I will wake up soon.

My mind is growing clearer. The darkness is fading and the world is feeling real again. I’m awake.

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About the author

F-rank Human

  • Za Warudo

Bio: A transcendental being existing beyond the center of all chaos, and a lover of strong tea

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