I am a lone wanderer. The stars above are my guides, the wind my unyielding speed, and my dreams, those untamed forces, propel me forward. Time unfolds beneath my feet, the road stretching endlessly, and space becomes nothing more than a marker of milestones—yet I do not seek to know where it all leads. My destination is a mystery, and that mystery is enough.
There is a reason behind every encounter, a force behind every meeting. What drives us to act as we do, to choose one path and not another? Have you ever considered your own death? Not the mere event of it, but the various ways it could come? There is a strange discomfort in contemplating death. The energy that once surged through our veins, that vibrant force sustaining life, gradually fades. This is the inevitable rhythm of existence. As our bodies decay, the universe itself renews us in its cosmic furnace—where the struggle between life’s resilience and death’s inevitability unfolds. Life finds its way, and so too does death, relentless and undeterred.
But what of existence beyond the known? Beyond stars and planets, beyond even the comforting glow of light? Can you imagine a place where there is no reflection, no object to grasp, not even a distant glow? A place where you are cast into the pure, raw nothingness—the absolute void. The space itself becomes an overwhelming presence, a monstrous force that traps you in its vastness. It is a terror more profound than death itself. To be lost in that boundless abyss, utterly alone, is the most primal horror. For, what can you fear when you are alone in a universe without form, without meaning? A shark, a predator, would at least provide an alter ego—a threat, a shape, something to grasp against. But to face nothingness, without an echo, without a boundary—this is terror without equal.
There is a reason behind every encounter, a force behind every meeting. What drives us to act as we do, to choose one path and not another? Have you ever considered your own death? Not the mere event of it, but the various ways it could come? There is a strange discomfort in contemplating death. The energy that once surged through our veins, that vibrant force sustaining life, gradually fades. This is the inevitable rhythm of existence. As our bodies decay, the universe itself renews us in its cosmic furnace—where the struggle between life’s resilience and death’s inevitability unfolds. Life finds its way, and so too does death, relentless and undeterred.
But what of existence beyond the known? Beyond stars and planets, beyond even the comforting glow of light? Can you imagine a place where there is no reflection, no object to grasp, not even a distant glow? A place where you are cast into the pure, raw nothingness—the absolute void. The space itself becomes an overwhelming presence, a monstrous force that traps you in its vastness. It is a terror more profound than death itself. To be lost in that boundless abyss, utterly alone, is the most primal horror. For, what can you fear when you are alone in a universe without form, without meaning? A shark, a predator, would at least provide an alter ego—a threat, a shape, something to grasp against. But to face nothingness, without an echo, without a boundary—this is terror without equal.
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