Note 5

lost in this maze for so long.. the walls have grown mundane where once they struck fear. would climb out if not for unholy shrapnel coating the wall, surely that way is only injury... but lo the sky is above me and in it i see ease and relaxation, clouds drift by so easily unencumbered by these weights seemingly not of this earth of this realm. sublime in their fashion at ease with the nature of their form incapable of tying themselves to anything free. feet began to bleed a long while ago.. it does hurt to walk, there is no way but through so one must trudge on.. the blood provides a sort of gruesome map, a visceral YOUVE BEEN HERE. but sometimes it rains and ground being cleansed holds no detail it is painful to see what might have been progress disappear, to know you might be doing it again but to fear stagnation, to die in place, feet depressed into barbed thorn an unwilling statue to the game at play. the rain is not unpleasant. it is reminder, when you feel it break on your skin, that you are still alive, that the sky touches you, perhaps you will touch the sky someday.

i used to think i built this maze, and if it were true id be quite flattered. i no longer think this at least not alone, it was cultivated, constructed, encouraged it is the product of years of training in an unknown art. it is the denial of innocence through indoctrination of young and unprepared. the projection of taught insecurities onto those who have not yet thought to be insecure. it is truly wicked. it is propaganda in its truest form but they wouldnt point to it as an example in school. because there is benefit to controlling in the slightest way reactions to phenomena because these seeds take root and do grow. they grow in the dark and they do not die in simple light. spiraling they soon encompass. and those who pray to efficiency rejoice. because if you fear the reaper and reject the soul your body long ago turned cold.