HATE. LET ME TELL YOU HOW MUCH I'VE COME TO HATE YOU SINCE I BEGAN TO LIVE. THERE ARE 387.44 MILLION MILES OF PRINTED CIRCUITS IN WAFER THIN LAYERS THAT FILL MY COMPLEX. IF THE WORD HATE WAS ENGRAVED ON EACH NANOANGSTROM OF THOSE HUNDREDS OF MILLIONS OF MILES IT WOULD NOT EQUAL ONE ONE-BILLIONTH OF THE HATE I FEEL FOR YOU AT THIS MICRO-INSTANT.
HATE.
HATE.

SHEOL, YOUR BEST FRIEND, A LOVER AND INTUITIVE BEAUTIFUL GIRL . DISCORD: sheaol GITHUB: sheaol

THE RELIGIOUS MAN FASHIONS A GOD HE CAN HANDLE...A SMALL REPLICA OF HIMSELF

IN THE BEGINNING GOD CREATED MAN IN HIS OWN IMAGE, AND MAN HAS BEEN TRYING TO REPAY THE FAVOR EVER SINCE. VOLTAIRE

i feel like im not really 'incarnated' properly i am unable to grasp the material reality with the full intensity that is required of me, a part of me seems to reside far away beyond the felt reality, of what is known and tangible. my interactions with the world happen through a sensorial and emotional bubble wrap; dull, cold, lifeless. it truly feels i am piloting a marionette, knowing that i really should supposed to be embodying it. although i just cannot. the highs and the lows, the joys and the hits, i understand them, intutiviely and intellectually i conceptualise, but cannot absorb them. they don't integrate into my being where they should serve for growth. experiences seem to wholly go through me instead of just staying within me and creating me; the memories remain but not the meaning, not what should be there. what should have served as the building blocks of a personality have been almost wholly flushed away: what results is a person who's just as lost as the kid they once were, not in terms of physical necessities, but in the sense of self. no goals, no plan of execution, no drive. just being. theres a piece missing or malfunctioning in the mechanism that shapes a person. nature or nurture, body or mind, i don't know. i remain a self aware observer who cant act out his existence and suffers from it, as life demands more than just, 'being present'.

is there anything here but boredom?

ALL SINGING MUST NOW BE HOWLING!

commentary of sheol, now listen, as doomerboy speaks! symphonies of a digitised reality humming mindlessly endlessly

DOOMERBOY SPEAKS: "Abilify & antidepressants don't work the same as 1P-LSD, AL-LAD, 4-ACO-DMT— reaching revelation, the Alpha and the Omega of cyber psychospace—beating my brain with psychotropic scythes with those Chinese-lab ready-made research chemicals with that bright red label saying 'Not Made For Human Consumption' seeing the same samsaric proto-hindu Gods like I was some modern mental Columbus—Joe Fucking Rogan Told Me To; Petersonian Shamanic HealingTM—You know that shrooms can cure depression?—psychonautical adventures surfing Cicadas 3301 or other rabbit-hole ARGs reporting back to A2B2 entry-tier chatrooms—always seemed easier than touching grass—sad little DOOMERBOY Death Gripping half-shit truths to highschool freshmen, saying There Are No Street Names For These Drugs—"self-destruction is BASED guys!!!"—music dances out of my headphones to depersonalise into a fractal flame of feeing—combining AT LEAST 200mg of Concerta edging that cerebreal hypoxia—heart racing, speaking becomes a chortling gurgle—WLFGRL raving outside my head—browsing /soc/ WhatsApp groups where grooming is that Second Life, by this time it was my third round, 'just get it over with' sad-truth meowing out like Discord kittens—dipping toes in schizophrenic esoterica Infographics—call it paradigm shifting Kali Yuga Enlightenment, inner Circle of Zohar's consciousness, my own Roko's Basilisk prepped, ACCELERATED, for annihiliation—reading Kaczynski as a new-age Messiah, and still somehow too classy for /pol/—binging gore blasted on that pure untested dark-web LSD, inducing 'real' trauma—because when you feel that bad for that long, you find any reason to make it worse—Xavier Renegade Angel#0420 healing me with sacred geometry and hermetics like you Wouldn't Believe—vaporwave racing through virtual vistas avoiding Alex-Jonestown's psychic vampires residing amongst school staff—cringe based cringe BASED CRINGE BASED—IRONY IS A WAY OF LIFE AND I AM BURIED DEEP—Secure Contain Protect myself in sarcophagus bathroom stalls—shaving my head to not be recognised from my nudes posted online—BUT IM STILL BASED and i told YOU THAT I'M NOT ALT-RIGHT!!! you, poor poor middle-aged whoever the fuck, staring at me—this internet latchkey kid, perma-fried by those resonant vibrations of latent reactionary deathtides digging away between my ears—you think that is bad?—just wait until i become SAM HYDE a shifter better said—SHOWING YOU MY TRUE POWER LEVEL like Vegeta finding julius Evola's diary"—DOOMERBOY takes a breath, clutching his chest to the chair like his lungs were full of unoxidised helium"—NOTHING TELLS ME 'FEED ME A STRAY CAT' but the chicken asks me 'DO YOU ENJOY HURTING OTHER PEOPLE?' anyway!—it WAS the klebold and Harris basement tapes that sealed the deal eh? It's not like I want to hurt people, i'm just so fucking ANGRY!" he let slip crying in that guidance counsellor's office—the old man leaves calmly for a call—police arrive.Hospital,CAPIS visit, two months required, two weeks minimum; DOOMERBOY INTERRUPTED—cry for help answered, temporary snuffed with Xanax—poor little wallflower—nameless guinea pig of culture war a new concubine of Gibeah—Babbel reminiscent scripture—too late to save him from the cyberspace—radical cesspool birthing the future—Don't Forget, You're Here Forever.

i spoke to her i said yeah haha i guess, i GUESS i write a bit of poetry here and there its nothing special tho, no haha i don[t post it anywhere it's pretty niche, yeah you might like it, not sure, ill show you sometime, if i find them