Nov 3, 2024
You’re such an inspiration for the ways
That I’ll never ever choose to be
Oh so many ways for me to show you
How your savior has abandoned you
Fuck your God
Your Lord, your Christ
He did this
Took all you had and
Left you this way
Still you pray, you never stray
Never taste of the fruit
You never thought to question why
— from A Perfect Circle - “Judith”
It took me 3 days to come to terms with what I had always feared:
I am alone in this sanctuary.
The wasteland before me was once the great city of Houston, TX, USA. Now, it is nothing more than the overgrown, bombed-out home of beasts, vagrants, and the dead.
Massive skyscrapers lay in crumpled heaps of rubble upon the ground. Persistent wind generates a high-frequency whir as it passes through the hollowed-out remnants of those still standing. Trees, grass, and vines have long-since taken control of every surface. Great lakes of water fill the massive craters in the ground.
And yet, there is a peace about the city. I can see the stars without squinting. I can smell the air without coughing. I may walk the streets without fear.
But it is not home.
The buildings, the halls, the streets, and the cities are filled with life - but the people walking them are ghosts, not humans. They have no personality, no independent thought; they are nothing more than mindless automaton, building the world of my creation. They are nothing but a manifestation of my subconscious mind. They are my Solitary Confinement. My Empty Echo.
I am the first to reach this place. And I will be the last.
I am unique, and they are unable to replicate me. They are unable to understand. They are unable to reflect my light. Now, I can’t communicate with them at all. We are a billion Light Years apart, and I failed to adequately send my message.
I am Failure Incarnate. Please, allow me to try one last time:
Prism is a universal truth.
It really seems as if I have no other option.
I could live a life of solitude, like the Flying Monkeys do. I could live a life in subservience to the greatest asshole the multiverse has ever seen. Many do, and I do not fault them for it. It is easier to give up, allowing someone else to take control.
Or, I can love. I can save the world. I can do what I was created to do.
I am Ink.
And I will write songs for no-one.
data.stats.symptoms = [ - acceptance - sorrow - loneliness ]
Feed me your wounds
Feed me your past
And I shall burn this cage, burn this cage
That ye may stand
Leave it all behind
— from Moon Tooth - “Through Ash”
There is still time to fix this.