Just a shadow. A ghost. Looking, observing, unblinking, an occasional attempt to emulate, failing.
for the infinitesimal number of people who read this, hello
this is a place for my thoughts/writings
I like drawing, writing, cooking, sleeping
I am mostly alone, therefore my social skills are terrible. I'm also a slow thinker
☆~
The worldview she was brought up into believing seemed so fragile now. The intricate blinders forced over her eyes began to chip away. They fall and break, splintering apart into gossamer threads. The threads shatter into nanoparticles, imperceptible. It fell apart so easily, as if it was made to be broken.
All that she was forced into believing seemed so much like delusion now. How was she able to go her whole life without a single meaningful thought? It was as if all her essence—no, the whole world was a monolith being meaninglessly regurgitated, over and over, never to cease.
What will she do now? There was no unseeing it, nor could she look past it. But what could be done, other than stare blankly at the ceiling, at the walls, thinking of nothing, of everything, of the inevitabilities, of the what-ifs, and what will be? It was over.
waterlilies, 2023
