“Madness is a required inheritence for greatness.”
You want to know what makes me write? Here’s the truth: I have a voice in my head telling me to do so. Endless whispers, eternal shouts, resonating in this small little mind of mine.
To understand genius—I mean madness, is to bring yourself upon the void, let it gradually devour you and emerge from the very bowels of it, not as a victorious warrior but a tainted one.
Now, there is an entire universe, a cosmos filled of indifference, filled of tentacular entities that resides within my very mind. Its filled of the abhorrent and unseen, ridiculed by darkness and utter nihilism. Within this universe, the mad king reigns, with his rotten teeth and decaying skin. Look into his eyes and you will see the truth of the universe.
Once you have entered this realm you will see that there is truly no hope against the rising tide. Emotions will run wild and you will lose yourself out of pleasure and unbounded ecstasy.
You will find yourself in an orgy of boundless expectations, that you know will soon utter disappear but you are cursed to stay, to see what you should have been, to see your known mistakes, to relive your sins.
The mad king is a wish granter, but at the same time he is just god. in his eyes you’re just a small spectacle of being just like everybody else. A black husk of a body filled by pure emptiness.
You do not deserve to live.
And yet within this universe, a small and fragile existence fights against the literal dying of the light. A small speck, in a pit of darkness. What fuels their miniature existence is fury and anger. There are no righteous creatures, just creatures willing to survive, creatures desperate enough to succumb the purest and primordial of emotions.
I am a slave to this inherent demon. What it wants from me is whatever's left of me, sacrifices must be made for the greater good after all, whatever the greater good might be. But there is hope. There is assurance for something better, a light in the ever-consuming darkness. That is something that no one could ever understand, but me.
For as long as there is existence, there is hope, for as long as there is consciousness, there is a will to fight.
You're not supposed to be here and yet you asked to be here. I have no reason to know why, but it might be because of your mindless curiosity or your endless impunity.
Poor creature. Your essence will be crushed under your own weight and succumb into your own paralyzing thoughts. You do not deserve to be here under my gaze. Be gone and never will to come back, for you have not seen a glimpse of eternal despair.
Keep your sanity, you'll need it, for once you are judged, there is no divine that will save you or righteous act that you may bargain with, just bleak desperation and screams for forgiveness that you will hear for the rest of your worthless life.
There is no story within, just a madness waiting to take control.
Author’s note: I did not expect this to be this dark lol also I'm not writing this up to claim that I'm great or anything because I'm really not. I'm writing this to claim that if you expect to be great, you must shed a bit or, in fact, almost all of your sanity for it. Remember Vincent Van Gogh? Yeah. He's not the only one. I guess that's why I'll never be great, I just have too much of my sanity to love.