A Swan Song for a King of Nothing
Solitude.
The word rings like a thousand-year-old echo in a million-foot-wide room.
It's peaceful disquiet that comes when everything else disappears. It's the unnerving silence that comes with the absence of everything other than you. It's the moment of introspection that comes when it's just you, the universe, and the words inside your head.
My mind is like my kingdom. I rule over this gloriously tiny isle, bathed in light and shrouded in darkness at the same time. I see my happiness, my memories, and everything in all its glory, but I also see the burdens and the weight of my own and others' expectations crushing me. I see both sides of me: the body and soul, the light and dark, the chaos and order.
But when I'm in this beautifully painful state of self-reflection, I travel out of this tiny speck of a world, and see it in its place in the starry sky around me. My reality crumbles at the edges, while sparkling metropoles of white and gold, built by men who ascended to gods, surround me and this fake illusion of a realm. My fake illusion of a realm.
I feel a sinking dread inside my stomach.
Insignificance, the one thing that all humans fear more than anything else, is upon me.
The dreaded, sinking feeling of being a nobody; of being outpaced by stars burning brighter than you; of sinking back into the abyss of nameless faces from whence you came. The one thing all of us fear: not being able to keep up, and being swallowed by the masses. Being trodden upon by giants, and being lost underfoot. Being turned into a living ghost, agonizingly floating among people who flock to other figures higher than you. Insignificance is being pulled down by your emotions and your expectations into a whirlpool of black nonimportance, the inky darkness enveloping your terrified face as you slowly, but certainly, succumb to your ultimate fate. Insignificance is being weighed down by your own and others' expectations into a state of solitude for the rest of your life, not knowing how to get out, drowning within this excruciatingly sweet state of nothing.
Suddenly, people appear. Everywhere.
I look up and see all of these godly, divine figures, who are within my arm's length, but are miles above me. I see people piling up, one on top of the other, just to see the light of success for a brief moment, and then only to fall back down into the abyss once more. I see people crushed under the weight of the people climbing on them, I see others torn up by their very own chains. I see the people beside me point up to the gods above, and then point to me, jeering and mocking. I see the people above me reaching their hands down to me, as if to pull me up, but when I finally grab hold, their gesture morphs into a cruel pointing finger of accusation and mockery. I feel the amalgam of emotions around me dragging me down into the black, dark crevice where failures go to starve and die from a slow, agonizing life. It's only a matter of time before I break free of my chains binding me to this rift, or succumb to my bonds and fall with one last breath, accepting my fate of insignificance.
And so, good reader, I leave you today with one final tune, a final moment of order before I descend into the abyssal chaos from whence I came. A last blaze of glory before my light runs out for the last time, and I become nothing. A final, last-ditch play in this losing game. A final cry of a man floating on an ocean of pitch, letting loose his last, primal cry before he is assimilated into the swirling mass of faces below.
I leave you, good reader, with a song.
A swan song for a king of nothing.
EDIT: I know that this post is kinda dark, and also is the first time I've posted anything in a year and a half, but I just needed to get this out. Thanks for being here, guys, for anyone who follows this.
The word rings like a thousand-year-old echo in a million-foot-wide room.
It's peaceful disquiet that comes when everything else disappears. It's the unnerving silence that comes with the absence of everything other than you. It's the moment of introspection that comes when it's just you, the universe, and the words inside your head.
My mind is like my kingdom. I rule over this gloriously tiny isle, bathed in light and shrouded in darkness at the same time. I see my happiness, my memories, and everything in all its glory, but I also see the burdens and the weight of my own and others' expectations crushing me. I see both sides of me: the body and soul, the light and dark, the chaos and order.
But when I'm in this beautifully painful state of self-reflection, I travel out of this tiny speck of a world, and see it in its place in the starry sky around me. My reality crumbles at the edges, while sparkling metropoles of white and gold, built by men who ascended to gods, surround me and this fake illusion of a realm. My fake illusion of a realm.
I feel a sinking dread inside my stomach.
Insignificance, the one thing that all humans fear more than anything else, is upon me.
The dreaded, sinking feeling of being a nobody; of being outpaced by stars burning brighter than you; of sinking back into the abyss of nameless faces from whence you came. The one thing all of us fear: not being able to keep up, and being swallowed by the masses. Being trodden upon by giants, and being lost underfoot. Being turned into a living ghost, agonizingly floating among people who flock to other figures higher than you. Insignificance is being pulled down by your emotions and your expectations into a whirlpool of black nonimportance, the inky darkness enveloping your terrified face as you slowly, but certainly, succumb to your ultimate fate. Insignificance is being weighed down by your own and others' expectations into a state of solitude for the rest of your life, not knowing how to get out, drowning within this excruciatingly sweet state of nothing.
Suddenly, people appear. Everywhere.
I look up and see all of these godly, divine figures, who are within my arm's length, but are miles above me. I see people piling up, one on top of the other, just to see the light of success for a brief moment, and then only to fall back down into the abyss once more. I see people crushed under the weight of the people climbing on them, I see others torn up by their very own chains. I see the people beside me point up to the gods above, and then point to me, jeering and mocking. I see the people above me reaching their hands down to me, as if to pull me up, but when I finally grab hold, their gesture morphs into a cruel pointing finger of accusation and mockery. I feel the amalgam of emotions around me dragging me down into the black, dark crevice where failures go to starve and die from a slow, agonizing life. It's only a matter of time before I break free of my chains binding me to this rift, or succumb to my bonds and fall with one last breath, accepting my fate of insignificance.
And so, good reader, I leave you today with one final tune, a final moment of order before I descend into the abyssal chaos from whence I came. A last blaze of glory before my light runs out for the last time, and I become nothing. A final, last-ditch play in this losing game. A final cry of a man floating on an ocean of pitch, letting loose his last, primal cry before he is assimilated into the swirling mass of faces below.
I leave you, good reader, with a song.
A swan song for a king of nothing.
EDIT: I know that this post is kinda dark, and also is the first time I've posted anything in a year and a half, but I just needed to get this out. Thanks for being here, guys, for anyone who follows this.
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