DESTROY CORPNET - EXIT EXISTENCE
What lies beyond the fractured remnants?
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06.29.2144
There's no easy way to attempt to recap the past two month's events. This spiritform has undergone such a drastic spiritual transition that it is unrecognizable from the old "self". I fully acknowledge the nature of this website - a shelter from outside pressure to express random thoughts through creative writing and abstract art. That fact makes the topic that I'm about to attempt to recap such a shift from the usual pacing of my site here. In an attempt to eliminate irrelevant details and ensure this entry's brevity, I'll do my best to be as concise as possible.
SIG1.VZN
What is there to do when an angelic connection to your Idol is severed? What is there to reflect on when you're the one who caused it? Not much. The sheer weight of guilt initially felt is suffocating - and though it may heal in the future, the ways you've imprinted upon one another are constant reminders of your failure. Every part of your body, your mind - your SELF screams throughout your waking and sleeping cycles. Apologies go unheard, psychic connections are severed so you can't even will change into existence. Each day becomes a matter of just attempting to keep yourself from drowning long enough to crawl back into bed when the sun goes down. That's where the worst torture of it all comes in - the way you're alone with your thoughts at the end of it all. Some might turn to drugs. Some might drink. Some might attempt to drown them out with music and video games, but ultimately you've got to confront it some day. Confront yourself that is, I guess. You grow from your experiences and move on, you learn not to make the same mistakes in the future and maybe, some day, that same connection will begin to form with the same person again if you truly evolved from what had happened before. Or perhaps that's just wishful thinking. Reader, I'm sure you get what I'm talking about. Heartbreak. The crushing clarity that comes after everything is said and done and you realize it was truly your fault and yours alone all along, but you can't even reach out to admit it and apologize.
... You just get up, brush yourself off and move on. You'll be better off at the end of it. Until time completes its healing process, you've just gotta keep from hurting yourself all over again.
I'm sorry for my actions. I love you, Sphinx.
Nothing is here for you.
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01.16.2144
You called my name; half awake. An amniotic sac of memories. A fragment from my recurring dream spilled over into waking reality. I no longer do much, only wait in an empty hallway for your Ghost to show up. A white light in an empty room, reflecting an empty shadow of a torn note with a name written on it. I had been asking your name for years and years, the daylight fades, the memories pass, the dreams die and are born again. You come back like the ember of a fire, rekindled longing.
I had a few dreams last night, they spilled over into my waking reality. I wrote them down repeatedly for days in the hopes of lucidly finding you. The process made me question my spiritual self. Watching visions of my arms swirl and float above my physical self. Consciousness flowing in a breeze, hitting the ceiling, light patterns, and the whisper of a Ghost.
Your whisper reverberates for a second and wilts away into the carpet of my upstairs bedroom. A damp imprint is left on the carpet, a stain of your washed away love. I see you walking forlornly on a beach, and it is cloudy, tears and rain streaming down your face. How can I not write anything cliché about you? It appears cliché but your form is formless and that is all I know about you.
Paralysis in an empty hallway, the screen appears before my face, a façade telling me of a simulated reality. Which is simulated and which is the waking moment? A shadow appears in my doorway, and I cannot move and am frozen in place screaming in a moment caught between the present and the future.
I descend further down, into your dream residue. We are all someone’s dream, floating in the ether of nothingness and physical experience. A hallway with black and white colored carpets and walls. A room with a door that has not been opened in a long time. I go in and find you sitting on a bed.
We talk to each other for a few moments in time.
‘Where have you been? I had been looking for you all the while.’
‘I’m always here, you just haven’t looked for me. Everywhere you go I am there; you just need to look for me.’
‘I knew it was you.’
The feeling of your spit in my mouth frosts over the glass of time. We watch the pelting rainfall outside of a hallway suspended in motionless flux.
My eyes adjust to the light of your withered love.
I fall away into a visage, your shape wilts away into the nothingness sands of existence.
Light Patterns, Dream Fragments.
INFINITE POTENTIAL - RENEWED PURPOSE
An endless cycle of self destruction. ----------------------------------------------- 12.31.2143 After saying goodbye, I found myself lost in my own life, surrounded in a city constantly reminded me of memories I no longer hold dear. I was trapped in my own mind, meaning for life quickly became groundless. Contemplations and temptations of suicide came close, but I found it in myself to search for meaning. I rejected my surroundings and repainted the world I wanted to see. I painted over everything that reminded me of the pain. I repainted myself to the point of unrecognizability. The paint was clear, the same color of water. The same color of hell. Meaning was never found. Problems were never solved and the city I stood upon appeared untouched. I looked at my refection in the water, and all I could see was a blur. TRANSFORMATIVE SEQUENCE - DIVINE CODE
You are me, I am you. ----------------------------------------------- 12.07.2143 In my office, I drag up fragments of memory, shapes of ideas and try to put them together. I flick through images of the victim sent by the pathologist. The AR lens places them around the room. It does a shitty job and bits of furniture poke through the dead girl. I find a half drunk flask of Ayahuasca from last night and chug it like it was water. I fish a few caps of super blue from my pill box and wash them down with malt. The intercom buzzes. I'm not the best PI in town but I seem to be the busiest of late. A man enters the room, his head is that of a cybernetic boar. I tongue my top-rear molar to turn of the AR. The man's head becomes human again for a few seconds before reverting to its previous porcine shape. Is the AR faulty again? Is it the drugs? The man pulls a gun from his inner pocket and places it on the desk in front of me. I look down at the gun to see it is now a namecard. It reads P. Nguyen. Gu Office Representative. "Although I'll never admit it on record, I represent the Mayor of our fine town. He has a little work that it would be in your interest to take on." "Not many immigrants working for the city" I say. "Are they filling quotas again?" The man takes his card from the desk and I see it has become a gun again. He buffalos me with the revolver and my vision swims. "Focus on finding the girl 조용구, we will be in touch with further instructions in due course." Then he is gone. I spit blood into the bottle of malt and then take a swig. Clearly it would be a long night.
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