Not too sure where this one is going. The passages written down thus far loosely cover the two main themes that this will be centred around. They do not run linear into each other and are not finalised yet, nor do I see them being near each other in the end. But hey, I wanted something up on here.

I’ve been scared nay, terrified, for as long as I can remember. A day seldom goes past that I do not dwell on it. Every moment of everyday it haunts me. It stops me from shopping, it stops me from socializing, it has even stopped me from bathing at times. I have gone weeks at a time ignoring the outside world, wallowing in my own filth for the fear that it might.

Intellectually I know how irrational it is. I know that the rest of the world functions as normal with it as just a real of a possibility as in my life. But on some other level, it still taunts me. Every one of my actions is governed by the thought of it, leaving a sickening fright in the place where my sanity should be.

Of course the sickness I am referring to is different from the one in which I am trying to flee, for the sickening feeling is a good thing that protects me from my own carelessness.

But no. Flee is the wrong word. “Flee” implies a chance of escape, a chance of… No, one cannot flee, one has to stay put and barricade. Barricade against the warpath that tries to pull one down. Down. Down into the depths of Hell – not that there is such a place.

It is always there. The idea is forever there at the back of my mind, niggling like the child that just won’t quit; the predator that just won’t let go; the lonely old man that just wont… die.

I am no old man, but still, my death seems closer than the analogous man’s.

Every moment of every day I fear for my life, my life is spend fearing for my life, my fears threatening to come to life. My fear is life. My life is fear.

It just takes one slip of the hand when holding a knife to puncture a lung, or split an artery, you know! It only takes one gasp of Fed Breath and I would be sneezing blood before you could say gesundheit! It takes nothing more than the careless act of one stranger in a car to end my existence, as if it were no more significant than that of one solitary leaf crushed under foot whilst blissfully running through the park.




I refuse to believe anything is inevitable. I do not believe in any form of higher intelligence - or any level of intelligence - that would determine our fates.

There are none; there is not any.

Fate. I don’t believe in that either. In our own hands lies the path of our own lives, albeit invisible to us for the best part, but there nonetheless.

There is no God, there is no Allah, Vishnu, Anu, Thor or who, or whatever else. It doesn’t matter. These are but mere arrangements of letters and stories and songs that have been used by us to hold us down through the eons. All to cloud the fact that humankind is the pinnacle - even if from itself.

To liken the hierarchy of species with Man at the top of it to Mount Everest would be insufficient, for humans named that mountain. We gave that mountain meaning. Without us it would just be any other large rock. It would not even be that though, for even the concepts of ‘large’ and ‘rock’ are manmade. Without us the world is a mere nothing. Not even a nothing, for that is still a definition. The Earth would rationally not exist.

We conquered that world. That mountain. That rock. That thing which without us has no meaning, no purpose, no reason.

We are the sentient cataloguers of the universe, giving meaning and purpose to all that we encounter.

We are God.

The End

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