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Description

"You will find that it is quite lonely here. There will be voices and faces in the walls and though you know that they are not things you can touch they are very much real. It is all real, this dream. And you cannot concentrate and so the scenery will rarely be to your liking, often not at all. There is not really air and food and light. It is cold and you are tired. We are all so tired".

"It is weakening".

"The dream?".

"Yes".

"You're seeing them now, aren't you?".

"You don't need to see them".

"I know that. Though for you they manifest themselves tangibly. Perhaps, though it allows you to fight them, it is not a blessing. Perhaps it lets you forget what they really are. When you attach ideology to something like that, they become more than mindless forces. A simple serpent becomes the devil. If you continue hating they will strengthen themselves with it, just as they have begun to take up the indulgent greed you hate. We limited what you could perceive in order to sway your beliefs, but the facade is crumbling. You are growing more aware and less convicted. They are growing hungry. They existed in nothing, and they want it back".

"Of no concern to you".

"Not exactly".

"Aren't you just a tool?".

"You're a raccoon".

"I thought I was a fucking monkey".

"I never said that".

"Of course".

"You're losing yourself. The world around you. You've felt uneasy lately and it's not really the worms or the angels. You're rotting. You're afraid of things that never wanted to hurt you. Everyone is your enemy now and it's ripping you apart. You can't even feel yourself half the time and when you do it's terrifying. You've been hiding. But you live. No matter what you won't die and let yourself sink into the abstraction of it all. Is it spite? Or fear that what comes next will be even worse? You force yourself on to enact some vague dream but you don't know what it is. The old you wanted it and that will lives on in you but even they didn't know what it was. Is it a material achievement? Making a creation real? You're walking right now and you're not happy. Do you want love? Someone who doesn't want to hurt you? You'd grow annoyed with the company eventually. Food? You'll eat and grow full but wake up hungry again the next day. You'll never be full really and what little happiness you experience will be as brief as the glimmering peaks of the waves around me".

"Do you like the sea?".

"Of course. I do like things after all. Not much but I have preferences regarding where I sit and wait. Despite all my strength, knowledge, and great age my tastes have always been simple. I like the sun and gentle rain. I like the water. In your dream it is often grey because you grew up in a grey place, but I prefer it light blue and rocky. But this is still nice and I am happy. I watched this sea form and I will witness its eventual consumption by a star. By then another task will be at hand".

"I won't stop fighting them for your sake. I won't do anything for anyone unless I'm sure it benefits me. I know I've outlived my usefulness to you and you have likewise to me. You have your catalyst, your Beast of Revelations... perhaps... I have my will. I will never see my dream realized and I will never force it upon the world. But I never lived to be happy. I lived out of fucking spite. I let myself die and they fucking won. Not again... it has to be made... I'll get torn apart and fucking do it again... heh... you'll outlast me of course but I'll fight as if you die like anyone else. I've killed angels before and I've tasted them... it makes me happy... and if you fuck with what little happiness I get... I'll rip you apart limb from limb".

Description

"You will find that it is quite lonely here. There will be voices and faces in the walls and though you know that they are not things you can touch they are very much real. It is all real, this dream. And you cannot concentrate and so the scenery will rarely be to your liking, often not at all. There is not really air and food and light. It is cold and you are tired. We are all so tired".

"It is weakening".

"The dream?".

"Yes".

"You're seeing them now, aren't you?".

"You don't need to see them".

"I know that. Though for you they manifest themselves tangibly. Perhaps, though it allows you to fight them, it is not a blessing. Perhaps it lets you forget what they really are. When you attach ideology to something like that, they become more than mindless forces. A simple serpent becomes the devil. If you continue hating they will strengthen themselves with it, just as they have begun to take up the indulgent greed you hate. We limited what you could perceive in order to sway your beliefs, but the facade is crumbling. You are growing more aware and less convicted. They are growing hungry. They existed in nothing, and they want it back".

"Of no concern to you".

"Not exactly".

"Aren't you just a tool?".

"You're a raccoon".

"I thought I was a fucking monkey".

"I never said that".

"Of course".

"You're losing yourself. The world around you. You've felt uneasy lately and it's not really the worms or the angels. You're rotting. You're afraid of things that never wanted to hurt you. Everyone is your enemy now and it's ripping you apart. You can't even feel yourself half the time and when you do it's terrifying. You've been hiding. But you live. No matter what you won't die and let yourself sink into the abstraction of it all. Is it spite? Or fear that what comes next will be even worse? You force yourself on to enact some vague dream but you don't know what it is. The old you wanted it and that will lives on in you but even they didn't know what it was. Is it a material achievement? Making a creation real? You're walking right now and you're not happy. Do you want love? Someone who doesn't want to hurt you? You'd grow annoyed with the company eventually. Food? You'll eat and grow full but wake up hungry again the next day. You'll never be full really and what little happiness you experience will be as brief as the glimmering peaks of the waves around me".

"Do you like the sea?".

"Of course. I do like things after all. Not much but I have preferences regarding where I sit and wait. Despite all my strength, knowledge, and great age my tastes have always been simple. I like the sun and gentle rain. I like the water. In your dream it is often grey because you grew up in a grey place, but I prefer it light blue and rocky. But this is still nice and I am happy. I watched this sea form and I will witness its eventual consumption by a star. By then another task will be at hand".

"I won't stop fighting them for your sake. I won't do anything for anyone unless I'm sure it benefits me. I know I've outlived my usefulness to you and you have likewise to me. You have your catalyst, your Beast of Revelations... perhaps... I have my will. I will never see my dream realized and I will never force it upon the world. But I never lived to be happy. I lived out of fucking spite. I let myself die and they fucking won. Not again... it has to be made... I'll get torn apart and fucking do it again... heh... you'll outlast me of course but I'll fight as if you die like anyone else. I've killed angels before and I've tasted them... it makes me happy... and if you fuck with what little happiness I get... I'll rip you apart limb from limb".