"People label themselves with all sorts of adjectives. I can only pronounce myself as 'nauseatingly miserable beyond repair." -Franz Kafka The deepest pit is not the surface beneath the ground. The void is not darkest space, and the infernal region is not the most petrifying place. On a certain extent, these things subsist in a tremendous world inside of us. A formidable cosmos, an endless abyss. A breeding ground for monsters. It is a place where breathing is different and every perspective is distorted. It is unfathomable and aloof which nothing can come except a chariot. That one day, it will roll up, will get bigger and bigger, that will fill the whole world at the moment it reaches you. You will fall into this enveloping medium like a child being submerged into the upholstery of a freight that drives through the storm and night, through the fire and brimstone. "I cannot make you understand. I cannot...
One. . two. . three. . how many do I need? T ick tock. . tick tock, how many more hours before I can sleep? Paper-scissors-stone, which among them do I need? There is nothing more harder than to be awake and thinking, while the word is still and sleeping, and there is nothing more tragic than a tumult inside that will never cease. I'll probably laugh if the ocean will claim that he is the deepest blue. Ha-Ha! Come on Ocean Blue, there are still a lot of men that are bluer than you! If you have made to step out in your room this morning, then you belong to the lucky ones as most of us can't even get up in our beds, can't even zone out in our heads. A very dark place but there's a comforting sense that it is safer here than to dwell outside. The darkness, the void, and the space inside our head, it is a ...
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