vain

Instructions

FRAGMENT I memento falsitas chirrup's dream sequence, [everything is wrapped with falsity.] ... the crows gather above, a poet of mistletoe that tangles one's sanity. perhaps it links from one to another to grant success in a story's birth. ⠀⠀but what is required for that to be achieved is killing. to the poor fringed iris that's planted deep in her heart, perhaps you were the one in the bullet's eye. as it impatiently waits to strike a chance. but everything is wrapped with falsity, nothing can tell if it's already withered. ⠀ maybe it's too late. the sandy dunes that was flared beneath the blazing sun, something she swore was the icon of her old home– it all seemed fake like everything was. all that blankets the earth's surface in purrs vision appears pale somehow. maybe it dissapeared. maybe the snow took over, a deep sensation of cold and blithering ice in the moon's shelter that defeated warmth. since when did the moonlight ever feel this bitter, the sounds of nothing but heartbeats befriend it aswell? it was freezing. like there was nothing the feline could feel at the scene; numb. everything is so numb. the smoky breaths that would easily be visible in the wintry season arrive as they were, getting funnier and unsteady by minutes. but wasn't it /still/ leaf-fall? is she unaware of what time the world is in now? but everything is wrapped with falsity, is time even moving? oh for [ERROR]'s sake, everything feels like it's crumbling apart, again, and again, once more. but at the same time had there be anything visible to purr to prove this all, she would've already fainted. circles and circles, breaking into thousand scribbles and unidentified sketches. a transparent description that suffocates the hopeless candid in her sleep, like smoke filling in purrs lungs. unable to breathe the true air of this world, if it isn't contaminated already. unfortunately in her broken eyes, it already is. it always was. she arrived in this world, dressed in the words of woe and destructed self-description that formed off her inability to be stable. if only she had a weapon– the will to move herself out of this filth-driven route of her life, things could be a little better. a little. ⠀⠀declaring peace and wanting peace, wanting everything to be just okay. but everything is wrapped with falsity, is it possible to feel okay? all eyes around you, chirrup! you who never felt like you were able to fit in and be a functioning member of society. you who focus on the spotlight of others, what an insanely driven mindset you have that centers around what words would others pick in judgement. ⠀in judgement of who you are, ⠀the potential that you'd have to build in order to be ⠀loved. ⠀in order to be appreciated. ⠀in order to be recognized. like paws are all directed at you, they're all outstretched with claws that want you gone. leaving the enviroment that makes you feel like so doesn't help in the slightest, and the poor intelligence you own in picking choices leads to a staircase lowering down to the pits of vain. coldness that surrounds you, it's going to be endless, isn't it? warmth and comfort you long deprived for wouldn't be eternal. ⠀⠀would it be temporary, even? would it be possible to reach with the body you own? with the soul of the [ERROR] you mistitled yourself as? all eyes around you, chirrup! fall as deep as you want, more ⠀and more ⠀⠀⠀and more ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀and more. more until you suffocate under the dirt you scratch by yourself. more until you feel strangled with the paws of unexistent idealization that /they/ were all there. scratching the dirt, the stone and the earth below with rage was your job. without you realizing, walking on thin ice everyday was one step away from sabotage. ⠀⠀⠀you led yourself to what you are now. but the tip of your claws aren't as sharp as the stinging weight that floats in your chest. you just want to fall. to have a shoulder to cry on, ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀to have ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀S ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀O ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀M ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀E ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀O ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀N ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀E. but that would simply be ridicilous wishes the [ERROR] above wouldn't grant you. nothing would grant you what you want, ⠀⠀what you desire. nothing to reel you back from below zero. otherwise this path of life that you despise... a frown would be formed within it. (LO)L (笑) LO (笑)(笑)(笑)L /Merry bad end!/ ⠀⠀⠀⠀(LOL) (LOL) (笑) (笑)(笑)(LO笑) (LOL) (笑) (笑) everything is wrapped with falsity, so go on. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀excluding, ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀rejecting, ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀targetting. was the point of this sick world was to give every single soul within it a chance to grow a disgusting perspective towards it? since when was it ever her turn in this? when the bull's eye just break, in whom would the bullet be directed to? someone else, or her again?