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Older Nightcore

The Oblivion Walker

█̷̛̙͉̮͚̱̬͔̺̭̯̼͚̹̬͍̜̝̖̣͉̣̮̩̖̠͕̙̘̗̉̊̅̈́̌̌̂̄̅̆͒̈͑̈́̈́̉̔̓̋̉̏͑͒̌͑̏͂͘̚̕͘͠͝ͅ█̸̡̛̫͙̼͍̙̹͉̬͚̟̻̣̻͙͎̣͍͍̺̼̖̿̈͆̏̀̉̌͂̂͂̓͒̀́͗̅͝͝█̵̢͖̟̗̜̟̣̝̼̮̰̤̆́̌̽̉̑̈́̊̒͋̐̀̍̏́͌̚͝█̷̧̢̡̧̧̢̡̢͍̺͚̰͇̙̱̼̥̝̫̞̗̣̺͖͉̠͇͓̰͈͔̙̮̘̳̭͙̘̣̗̖̫͍́̊͑͗̈́̽͜ͅ█̷̛̙͉̮͚̱̬͔̺̭̯̼͚̹̬͍̜̝̖̣͉̣̮̩̖̠͕̙̘̗̉̊̅̈́̌̌̂̄̅̆͒̈͑̈́̈́̉̔̓̋̉̏͑͒̌͑̏͂͘̚̕͘͠͝ͅ█̸̡̛̫͙̼͍̙̹͉̬͚̟̻̣̻͙͎̣͍͍̺̼̖̿̈͆̏̀̉̌͂̂͂̓͒̀́͗̅͝͝█̷̢̨̢̧̧̧̛̟̫͚͓̩̳̗̙̺̘̱̩̜̝̲͓͖̮͎̫̞̲̭̯͍̜͖̥̦͖͚͈̝̳͓͔̺̘̩̘̪̳̓̿̐̑̐͋̑̔̈́̅̄͒̾̋̈́̀̒͊̉̈̀͂̎̈́̍̓̾̃̇̐̚͠͝ͅ█̷̛̙͉̮͚̱̬͔̺̭̯̼͚̹̬͍̜̝̖̣͉̣̮̩̖̠͕̙̘̗̉̊̅̈́̌̌̂̄̅̆͒̈͑̈́̈́̉̔̓̋̉̏͑͒̌͑̏͂͘̚̕͘͠͝ͅ█̸̡̛̫͙̼͍̙̹͉̬͚̟̻̣̻͙͎̣͍͍̺̼̖̿̈͆̏̀̉̌͂̂͂̓͒̀́͗̅͝͝█̷̢̨̢̧̧̧̛̟̫͚͓̩̳̗̙̺̘̱̩̜̝̲͓͖̮͎̫̞̲̭̯͍̜͖̥̦͖͚͈̝̳͓͔̺̘̩̘̪̳̓̿̐̑̐͋̑̔̈́̅̄͒̾̋̈́̀̒͊̉̈̀͂̎̈́̍̓̾̃̇̐̚͠͝ͅ█ Within the infinite void, there are a few countless odd beings scattered about. Permanently drifting. Ungodly or divine in nature. They drift, unable to know that they aren’t alone or that there are others drifting like them simply due to how endless it is. Time crawls to a halt. Space grows stagnant. Darkness remains a constant. Infinite. Eternal. Untouchable. But sometimes within the endless black of nothing, after a few eternities, something might come across something to escape their eternal monotony, whether it be someone else or something much farther than that. Floating through the void, a nameless spirit finds itself amongst endless nothing. Empty and desiring more, it quietly waits. Until eventually, it can feel the pull of reality, they allow it to take hold of them. Authors Note: As I get older, I can't help but hate my older self, especially how I wrote. I think I've improved since then but I still can't help but hate. I hope you enjoy it!
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