I thought this was reality.
But a world bound by words can never be real.
We've created these words to explain the absurdity of our existence.
But no longer an explanation.
Now just a way of ignoring our fear of the pure real.
And ultimately, the absurdity of our mortality.
Iv found the world without words. I've found the horror we've been conditioned to hide from.
There are no words to tell you about this world.
If one was created, the real would lose its meaning,
And become only a word or a label to make sense of something you can't explain.
The entrance is marked by a path of fallen syllables,
that will serve no purpose in this world.
Leave your language on the road leading to the real.
Abandon your understanding of existence.
It will only crumble anyway.
This world of truth is mine.
Only I can experience it because I cannot communicate its existence.
I can't tell you how crippling the real feels.
It's a silent war of the mind and mouth.
The mind is dying for exodus of this experience.
But the mouth cannot divulge.
It has no frame work to put together.
It has no sounds that can build you my world.
Alone in this life.
Because no one can live it with me.
No one can feel what I feel, ever.
No one can live my exact life.
It makes me feel detached from every other human or object.
They can never truly enter my life or my world.
You cannot put yourself behind my eyes and see what I see.
Your perception is distorting my real.
Maybe your real is less terrifying. Maybe you don't have a real.
And I am envious.
Don't build your wordless world.
It only pushes me to see I will die alone.
I think I'm having an existential crisis