Seeking for the ends of what remains. Faint ambient music-like noise aroused the scenery. Music that reminded me of everything. The nights I spent pondering whether anything was real, the shows, theater acts and musicals I've ever witnessed in my life like they'd now been smashed together into a smoothie. All the times I've been scolded for yet another brainless reason.
Floating in the ocean of darkness. I won't be swallowed just yet. The raft is still holding me up. Floating, sailing as the waves crashed against the wood. Water splashing onto my bare feet. It was cold. I promised I wouldn't be swallowed but the fog has already surrounded me. Trying to change the course my raft sailed would have been impossible with just my broken hands. Give up and let the sea show where you're destined to go. Soon it will rain either way.
I was tired, yet just a few bits longer and I could be free. Do it and you won't lose everything. Yourself as well. I couldn't believe my eyes anymore, nor my brain. Nor any other sense this piece of everything I had had. I was just a little speck of the near coming whole. My actions mattered not to the consequences.
Freedom isn't possible to achieve. Impossible to describe like every other part. I am sorry mother for being the leading cause to all of this. How come people put things into words when words are made up yet the objects aren't. Existence isn't made up. One thing humans didn't invent. It was made for us. But existence isn't real.
I am not a bad person. Bad people constantly seek for bad consequences. I seek for none. My actions shouldn't matter in the long run. It doesn't matter. It will be like nothing ever was. If I leave everything in the back of my mind, nothing will come out. No one will ever know. I'm not a bad person.
Mother, I am scared of the inevitable. I am not smart, yet why do you make me the one accountable for such acts? Knowledge doesn't come with will, it's given to you. It's forced upon you. I begged, I asked, I manifested for one day to receive such a gift from existence.
I don't want to know. Take it away, I don't want it. I begged for knowledge taken from me. Don't force this upon me, I cannot take responsibility. Knowing is hard. Hard things are only for jokes, not for me. I don't want to know.
Existence hates me. It told me it with all this knowledge led upon me. I'm not smart, nor am I reasonable. Am I made for remembering? Am I made for being living proof of what didn't happen. Would that make me unreal? Am I unreal? Do I have a place in whatever society is. Existence isn't real.
One is either higher or lower than zero. It depends on the day. Today it's something that I will not know. Tapping is too tiring. Too out of my league. I'm not made for tapping. I'm made for existing.
My raft sails for longer than I wanted to. Twelve was supposed to be the end, I said. It's been far over twelve. That's such a dumb number. So meaningless and empty. Where's your proof? No one cares unless you really show how it affects existence. Go ahead without me, I'll come in a bit.
I'm never moving. A rock at the bottom of the river moves. Slowly, but with the flow. It depends on the size and weight of it. It was small and petite yet it still didn't move. The river was avoiding the rock. The river hated the little rock. The river didn't bear to even touch it. Barely even taking its existence into mind when making decisions. Existence isn't real.
Not even moss or mold dared to depend on it. It was still the same fresh rock as when it fell into the river. When a young child with curly brown hair and freckles threw it there out of spite for the world. I hate you mother, it screamed. Mother didn't know. Mother don't ignore me like that, you know what's going on, don't you?
I can't leave, not yet. Please don't take this away from me. I know what I asked for but that wasn't me. It wasn't me. I'm not me. That's not me. No one is me. Existence isn't me. I'm not existence. I don't exist. Let me be. Can't I be yet another piece of gravel, no one will notice. Can't I blend into the grassy field where no one would notice me among everyone else that seemed exactly like me.
I can't see. Let me see. I want to understand. Don't make me know. Don't remind me. It will burn through me. Squeeze everything that's left only to leave a fleshy juice that no one will drink. No one would drink you flavored juice.
I already know that. I know everything. I know why you said that. I know why I said that. I know why everything happened. Tell me more. I need to know more. The lack of fresh information dried me out. Why can't you tell me more? There's always something that hasn't been told. Say something. Say something so I'll know you're real. Make me believe you are real.
Existence isn't believable. What makes something real? Something that can be acknowledged with all of the six senses. Not possible. Existence isn't real. What is. I should know. You should know. Please tell me the answer. Please explain everything. Show me why.