WHY IS MY CYBER PUNK DYSTOPIA SO CLOSE BUT SO FAR AWAY. WTF

you are so right bestie

They asked what I meant, I gave them a mirror and left. #SigilInTheStatic #philosophy #mystic #existentialism ❂

You are not the dream. You are the warmth it left on the pillow. #SoftCult #EmotionalAlchemy #LiminalFeelings #TenderExistence

You seek truth, have you considered sitting and listening for truth? #BlankPath #AntiMeaning
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You desire meaning, yet your meaning is to desire. You said it yourself!

The answer is not in direction, that is merely up to taste, the answer is movement.

Postulate 4: No belief is exempt from scrutiny.

Scrutiny is the condition by which belief retains meaning.
Without examination, belief ceases to live and begins to rot.

Postulate 3: Beliefs are instruments, not identities.

Beliefs exist to serve action, growth, and understanding. They are tools—never sacred.
When a belief fails its purpose, it must be shattered—or torn out, root and all.

Postulate 2: Joy is a valid justification.

Any belief that brings joy and demands justification is already justified by its joy.
Joy does not require permission. Only recognition.

Postulate 1: Hope is non-negotiable.

Any belief—alone or in constellation—that suppresses hope should be discarded.
Not only for the self, but for the well-being of the whole.

Hope need not be rational. It only needs to remain.

I don't know what it is, but I can promise the ending is perfect.

Joy is a random event that comes more regularly when in pursuit of compassion and hope.

Sat beside nothing but ghosts made of my own blood.

Bad AAPL

" annatrocious "

vtuber commission

" Consumed "

personal work

Life is a dew drop precariously perched between three grass blades.

When you find a desire, a love or passion that is so innate to yourself it's hard to ignore, embrace it's pull. Fall into what your eyes can't move from.

Watch safely cocooned in apathy at the kindling dispenser losing the last of it's rotten wood.

Lines draw as sands crawl, cracks scrawl a stone wall.

The thought of a heart being built from anything but the self leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

Spider's silk so plentiful you would assume the great fire shed it, Hearts wear it for protection against the communal warmth

I went to seek advice from a wise man. I asked him, "how can you believe we are all connected, You can not feel my pain". He then rose his fist into the air and brought it back down into his nuts, we both recoiled. #advice

i have always wondered why there is no ash from the great fire. some ember must have drifted this way.

Under the darkened depth of space, where no star dare cast a ray upon us damned. Taking melting steps in a river of sand, watching the flickers of hearts scatter among the distant waves.

I have met one of the hearts I saw marching. They have confided in me that they do not know what the light beyond the horizon is. Yet through all they have seen, they believe it to be 'The Great Fire'. Each heart, in line to deliver them self unto the fire, them embers returning to the fire's root