Monochrome world: the illusion of life
The sound vector is the core of my psyche, its very core. As it turned out, ignoring his needs devastates life very qualitatively. Ignorance does not exempt - from responsibility, from dullness, from meaninglessness …
Everything is gray, tasteless, colorless. Indistinguishable. Everything around me merged into a single gray background. This is the color of indifference, everything around has lost its distinction from each other. I do not feel anything. And I don't want anything. I do not understand where I end and this gray world begins. Inside me is just as empty and meaningless. The wind blows inside me. It blows outward from the inside of my devastated being and covers up all the reliefs of this world with gray dust, gray ash of indifference. I don’t feel and I don’t want to feel. I do not discriminate and I do not want to distinguish. It doesn't make any sense.
I don't recognize my face in the mirror. It is as lifeless as the furniture in the room that I used to not notice. All this has nothing to do with me. Even this body that was once mine.
It’s like an endless monochrome dream. Lifeless, forsaken world. There is no life inside me either. My existence has long been put on autopilot. And the autopilot lever jammed.
It's like I'm on the ruins of the old city. Everything that is around is just dilapidated, faded rubbish. And it's not even a pity. Because there has been no one here for so long that no one else needs it. These are the scenery left behind.
Depression … I've heard that word. But is this about me?
Depression is scary. I'm not scared. I just don't. Not so much that I don't even understand it. No one to make decisions, no one to regret.
Where have all the colors gone? I remember exactly that once, infinitely long ago, the grass was green. I remember using colored pencils I used to paint princesses and cartoon animals. I remember the red rose on my sister's woolen dress. Bright crayons on the asphalt. The sun is high in the sky. The smell of poplar buds. Muddy water in huge puddles. Blood on broken knees.
At what point did life leave this body? When did I care? It seems that it happened gradually. Nobody noticed this. Even me. I only remember the day when I suddenly realized that I no longer had the strength to live. And I wasn't even an adult. I was a child who could not find the strength to live on. No, nothing happened. Absolutely. It was just on that day that my life finally died out. Has fallen into disrepair. That was probably when my autopilot kicked in. I just did what I should, according to his primitive automatic program. She moved her legs.
I breathed in gray dust, and it covered layer after layer of all the colors of my childhood with a touch of indifference and suffocating emptiness. Joy went like water to sand. And the gray ash kept falling and falling …
It turns out that this emptiness grew in me and matured from early childhood, eating away from my life piece by piece. Extinguished with gray foam everything that used to burn and paint this life. Until she grew so much that she overshadowed the whole world.
And now … There is no future, no past - just a gray dregs before my eyes. I've been gone for a long time. Only the body is on the machine. It seems to me that I never became an adult, everything ended somewhere earlier … Somewhere infinitely long ago …
And I never thought that one day I would be able to find this eternal volcano in me, raising dust and ash into the sky, covering my sun from me. And his name is a sound vector.
The sound vector is the core of my psyche, its very core. As it turned out, ignoring his needs devastates life very qualitatively. Ignorance does not exempt - from responsibility, from dullness, from meaninglessness.
Now I know.
You, too, can recognize the structure of your psyche.
